State of Decay
by Obsidian Productions
Summary: A novelization of State of Decay. Marcus and Ed are best friends and have been coming to Trumbull Valley since childhood for lengthy, relaxing vacations of fishing and camping. Their latest trip, however, ends in terror, as they come out of the woods to discover that the valley has become overrun with mindless, undead killing machines...
1. Chapter 01: Before the Storm

Marcus found it difficult to take his eyes off the immense natural beauty surrounding him. He and Ed had managed to snag an absolutely excellent camping spot that sat right at the edge of the lake. He scanned the water's surface, which was clear and smooth in this largely windless day. Every now and then, a fish would break the surface, jumping into the air for a moment before slapping the water and disappearing beneath. Dragonflies and other insect wildlife buzzed the lake, breaking the fragile surface tension, leaving behind infinitesimal waves in their wake. Just down the way, maybe thirty feet to the left, he could see the little wooden dock.

He and Ed had fished off of it all yesterday and a little bit this morning, attempting to squeeze every last drop of fun from the vacation before it came to an unhappy end. Which it had. Marcus could hear Ed behind him, packing their stuff, getting ready to head back into civilization. He knew he should turn and help, but he found it hard to look away. Shifting his gaze from the lake to the forest surrounding them, Marcus promised himself another sixty seconds, then he'd get back to it. Just sixty seconds of peace.

"Hey, you gonna help or what, you lazy bastard?" Ed asked, tossing an empty can at Marcus's back. It hit the back of his dark vest and bounced off.

Marcus sighed. "Thank you, Ed," he said, turning, kneeling and retrieving the can.

"Anytime, buddy!" Ed replied merrily.

Marcus walked over to the big, black bag they'd set aside for trash and tossed the can into it. He turned and made his way over to what remained of his own gear that still needed packing. Crouching, he grabbed his bright orange sleeping back and began rolling it up.

"So, what are you gonna do when we get home?" Ed asked.

"I don't know, maybe go up to the gym, jog for an hour. I don't have to go back to work for another two days. Maybe play some games. I just got Silent Hills before we did this," Marcus replied, finishing tightly rolling up the sleeping bag. He began to stuff it into its canvas bag.

"Oh yeah, I thought I heard you playing it. I still think that's a silly name, but how far'd you get?" Ed asked, struggling with his own sleeping bag now.

"Only like an hour in." Marcus cinched the black drawstring and took a moment to inspect the bag. Satisfied that it was a job well done, he set it with the tent, which they'd already broken down and sealed away, then began to move towards the fishing gear.

"Hey...could you help me?" Ed asked.

Marcus stopped and glanced back. Ed was on the ground, struggling with his bed away from home. Marcus snorted, crossed the camp site and knelt, batting away Ed's hands. "Give it up, man. You screwed it all up."

His dark knuckles whitened momentarily as he took firm grasp of the bed and quickly rolled it up. A moment later, he was cinching a second drawstring and standing.

"How do you _do_ that so easily?" Ed asked, his voice a mix of amiable frustration and mock marvel.

"Practice," Marcus replied.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Sure- _oof!_ " He caught the bag as Marcus tossed it into his chest.

The pair continued to police up the camp site, making sure nothing was left behind. This was their yearly tradition, something that they had carried on now for nearly twenty years. The park rangers were notorious about handing out permanent bans for anyone who violated the sanctity of their park. Not that Marcus blamed them, it really was a beautiful location. So he worked overtime to make sure they left nothing behind.

Already he'd made two pilgrimages to the nearest black-barrel trash can, and he was working to make sure he wouldn't have to make more than one final trek. He made another pass over the camp site. Ed was finishing collecting up all the odds and ends, and it seemed as though they truly had policed up all the garbage.

"Be right back," Marcus said, tying off the black bag and shouldering it.

"Take your time, I'm not in much rush to get back," Ed replied, finishing his task and taking a seat on the white and orange cooler, staring out over the lake.

Marcus looked at him for a moment, feeling a pang of regret and guilt, then turned and began making his way towards the trash barrel. Marcus hailed from what the people of Trumbull Valley, (their current location), called 'The Big City'. It wasn't really all that big of a city, maybe fifty or sixty thousand people. It was about a three-hour drive from their camp site further upstate. For as long as he could remember, his father had continued a family tradition of coming down to Trumbull Valley and camping for a week or two.

When Marcus was six, he'd discovered another six year old, a Trumbull local named Edward Jones. They had quickly become best friends. Each year, Marcus would look forward to coming down and hanging out with his new best friend Ed. It got to the point that they'd switch off hanging out for at least a month during summer vacation. Either Marcus would come down and live with Ed and his parents, or Ed would be brought up and live with Marcus and his parents in 'The Big City'. By the time they hit eighteen, they decided they wanted to live together.

Ed had hit the stage in his life where he wanted out of the small town. His taste of Marcus' hometown had enamored him with city life. So after high school, they both went to a state college, living in dorm rooms for four years, while they both got bachelors degrees in business. When that was done, they'd decided to move back to Marcus' hometown. They'd moved into an apartment and taken jobs at a local office complex.

And so it had been for three years.

About halfway through college, Ed has lost his 'sick of it' attitude towards Trumbull and moved back during summers. Marcus had felt the same pull towards Trumbull: it was his vacation spot. The ultimate nostalgia trip that was all the good things about childhood summer vacations. But that was likely going to change in some capacity.

Marcus frowned at that thought. Up ahead, he spied the trash barrel. He tossed the trash in there and turned to look out over the lake again. It wasn't that he didn't still appreciate nature, that he didn't still love the relaxation and isolation it offered. He didn't bring his laptop and his phone had been turned off, since there was no reception up here anyway. Being cut off from the world was its own reward...though maybe not as much as it once had been. Marcus heaved a sigh, turned and began walking back.

All this trip, he found himself thinking more and more about how he wanted to get back to the city. Back to cars and video games and the gym and the people. There was, he supposed unhappily, a real truth to that old saying 'You can't go home'. He could keep coming back here and doing the exact same things year after year, but it was _him_ that had changed. Was this growing up? Getting older? If it was, he hated it.

Marcus felt confident that he could squeeze at least another year, maybe two, of enjoyment out of this, and who knew? Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe it was just his state of mind and he'd keep it going. But there was a small but sure part of him that felt this vacation sounded the death knell of the past, of his childhood. He continued along the path, seeing Ed up ahead, who hadn't moved, still sitting on that cooler. He stood up as Marcus approached.

"That it? Ready?" he asked.

"Yep, it's time to get heading back."

Ed turned and looked at the pile of stuff. "Ugh," he muttered, kneeling and grabbing his backpack. He shrugged into it.

"What?" Marcus asked, first attaching his bedroll to the top of his backpack, then slipping it on over his shoulders.

"Do we really gotta carry all this stuff back?" Ed moaned. "I mean, like, all of it? All at once?" He frowned unhappily at it.

"Yes," Marcus said, rolling his eyes. He knelt and passed Ed one of the two fold-out chairs that had, like everything else, already been packed into a canvas bag. "We do. And besides, it'll be a lot lighter than when we brought it in. We ate and drank all the supplies, pretty much. Now, quit bitching and help me."

"You're starting to sound like Mister Parkhurst," Ed said.

"Gee, thanks," Marcus replied.

As they finished gathering up their gear, Marcus thought unhappily of the man who ran their division of the office building. Parkhurst was a grim, old unhappy man of fifty five who had climbed the corporate ladder through sheer grit and determination. A classic, old-school case of a man who had no problem sacrificing friendships to get ahead and who took a special kind of perverse pleasure in shitting on those who worked beneath him.

They finished packing everything up and balanced the tent atop the cooler, which they carried between them. Marcus took one final look around and, satisfied, began to move away. He and Ed walked in silence for a few moments, listening to the quiet calm of the forest as they moved through it. Ed spoke up suddenly.

"Hey, I had a thought. How about we stop by the bait shop again before we head out of town?" he asked.

Marcus laughed. "No, Ed. No, for the both of us. That was just embarrassing. I know you think you're Mister Suave or whatever, but...no way, man. And besides, I mean, how old was she? Seventeen? _Maybe_ eighteen."

"Eighteen is legal," Ed said after a moment's contemplation.

"And not worth it. What if she gets pregnant? Besides, you live three hours away! Why do I even have to explain this to you?" Marcus asked.

"Okay, okay! No need to get all worked up over it," Ed replied.

Marcus opened his mouth to respond, then stopped dead as he suddenly caught a whiff of something absolutely wretched.

"Whoa!" Ed cried, yanked back by the cooler they carried. The tent fell forward onto the ground. "What's the deal man? Your brain stop working?"

"Did you smell that?" Marcus replied, his face twisting up in disgust. It smelled like rotted, maggot-ridden meat you might find in a hot dumpster. But already the smell was fading. Marcus looked around for the origin of the offending odor.

"No," Ed replied, "smell what?"

"I...don't know. It's gone now. It was like rotting meat. It was _so_ bad."

"Well, whatever, probably a deer or a squirrel or something in the underbrush. Come on, help me get this tent back up."

Marcus hesitated a moment longer, then did as asked. Once they were on their way again, Marcus found that the awful reek had knocked loose some unhappy and curious memories. They'd been out here for two weeks and had only gone back into town once, and that was three days after they'd arrived. Since that one trip in, they hadn't really left the camp site, definitely not the forest. About eight days ago, Marcus had woken in the middle of the night to gunfire. A lot of it. And shouting. He'd been half-drunk still and exhausted, and Ed hadn't even woken up. In the days that followed, he'd passed it off as a bunch of college kids going nuts with booze and guns.

It wasn't uncommon.

But now, having had time to really examine it, Marcus wasn't so sure. Those shouts hadn't really sounded like shouts of joy, the whooping and hollering of drunk idiots having a good time. Now, he thought they sounded more like screams of pain and fear. His heart beating a little faster, he wondered what had been going on that night.

"Hey..." Ed said, slowing, then stopping. "I just realized something."

"What?" Marcus asked, a little more harshly than he meant to.

"I...there's like no sound out here," Ed said.

"What?"

"The animals. Nothing, I don't hear anything. No birds chirping, no insects buzzing, no animal calls. It's like...dead silent. I mean, right?"

Marcus listened. They were close to the treeline now. "Yeah...maybe it's just...a quiet day," he murmured, still thinking.

"Isn't that like, bad? I mean, everything shuts up right before natural disasters. Like tornadoes or earthquakes. It's one of the warning signs."

"Okay, look, let's just get back to the car," Marcus said, picking up the pace again.

Ed started walking again as the cooler pulled him along.

They were nearing the treeline.


	2. Chapter 02: The Day the World Went Away

They passed through the treeline.

Marcus felt a palpable sense of relief wash through him, it was like slipping into a cool bath at the end of a particularly brutal workout. Was he really this tense? He glanced back behind him and finally chalked it up to being 'out of the woods', that old, old holdover from when man was not man but caveman. The forest was a dangerous place and it was easy to get your hackles raised. Plus, well, there were some weird things going on. The silence, those mysterious gunshots earlier, and that smell...he meant to start walking again, (both he and Ed had stopped once they passed the perimeter of the forest, as if reaching some unspoken agreement,) but now he hesitated further.

That smell...

It was back.

"Oh, _god,_ " Ed moaned. "I can smell it now. Damn, that is one nasty stink," he muttered. "We're going to have to tell someone. It's like a meat factory is dumping month old rotten corpses or something around here."

"Real nice, Ed," Marcus replied.

The sense of subtle dread, a quiet tension working its way into his gut and sapping it of heat, had returned with the stink. Their conversation fell flat in the still air. No breeze blew. The sun burned high overhead. Despite the heat, Marcus felt a chill ripple through him. Was he just being paranoid? He looked over at Ed, who was looking around anxiously. Did Ed pick up on the subtle apprehension, too, or was Marcus' own fear just infecting his friend? Ed _was_ prone to flights of fancy and rash decisions from time to time...

"Where the hell is that _coming_ from?" Ed moaned. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah," Marcus replied uneasily.

They began to move forward. Then they stopped once more, making it only five paces. The smell was getting worse. Marcus looked around. To his left was the lake and a small dock. Someone had stored a handful of bright blue canoes in a small gazebo-like storage area. Their plastic noses peeked out from beneath a dull gray canvas, tied down with rope. Behind them and slanting off to the right were the woods.

Directly ahead, however, was a small rest area and the trail that led up to the ranger station at the top of the hill. That way lay civilization. Also, apparently, a man. Marcus hadn't noticed him before, but now both he and Ed were staring at the man who sat at one of the wooden tables, facing away from them. He appeared to be wearing a tarnished, dark blue business suit.

"Who's that?" Ed muttered, more, Marcus imagined, for something to say than anything else. Ed shifted uneasily.

Marcus looked around. He heard the buzzing of flies, but could see no collection of them. Not by the trash, not at the treeline, not on the ground.

Except...

He focused and realized, with a sudden sense of revulsion, that the flies were clustered around the man seated at the table. He felt another wave of fear smash through him. Was the man dead? His hands went cold and he lost his grip on the cooler, dropping both it and the tent.

"Hey, man..." Ed complained, but his heart wasn't in it, he sounded distracted and afraid. "Is..." he swallowed. "Is that guy dead?"

"I don't..."

Abruptly, the man shifted, began getting up.

"I guess not," Marcus whispered. "Could the smell be coming from him?" he asked, his voice even lower.

"I don't think so, man," Ed whispered back.

"He could be homeless..."

"There's no homeless that smells that horrible."

The man was standing now, and here, he began to turn. The fear was back, worse than ever. Marcus felt ready to bolt. Something was definitely wrong here. The man turned to face them now. He began to walk towards them, out from beneath the protection of the shelter he'd been sitting under. Marcus started to get a really good look at him as he stumbled into the sunshine. His dark blue business suit was more than tarnished, it was torn and stained with something dark. It was very stained. But that wasn't what bothered him.

It wasn't the way his skin was very, very pallid in the sunlight, or how disheveled his black hair was. It was the stuff on his face, on his hands. Something dark red stained his mouth...no, not just his mouth, but all of his lower face. And his hands, his hands were covered in the stuff that might have been red jelly.

Or...

"Hey, I don't like this," Ed murmured suddenly.

The man had definitely seen them, and he was definitely walking towards them. Worse than the stuff (blood?) smeared on his hands and face was the way he walked. It wasn't exactly limping, like he was injured, or staggering, like he was drunk. It was more the gait of a man who had forgotten how to walk and only now was the act beginning to come back to him. Then his mouth opened wide and he let loose a loud moan that carried across the still air between them.

"Holy shit," Marcus heard himself whisper.

Real terror had taken root in him now and he felt frozen with indecision. What to do? What to do? Marcus was not a violent man by nature. He'd been in exactly two fights, one in high school, one in college, and they had both been halfhearted.

"Marcus..." Ed said softly.

The man had now crossed half the distance between them.

Suddenly, Marcus felt something switch on in his head, what must have been none other than his human survival instincts.

"Ed, drop your pack and run for the ranger station," he said quickly and quietly.

"What?" Ed managed.

"Drop your pack! Go for the ranger station! _Run!_ " Marcus screamed.

They both dropped their packs and took off. The man didn't look like he had anything in his hands, no knife, no gun, no weapon of any kind, but that didn't matter, because he was clearly insane. Now that he was closer, Marcus could see his eyes. There was something wrong them with, too much black, not enough color.

And...

"Run!" Marcus shouted again.

They ran across the dirt courtyard, past the wooden shelter and the tables, towards the hill and the trail that would take them to safety. He hoped. As he bolted, he couldn't stop seeing the man's eyes. It wasn't the color, or the lack thereof, that truly bothered him. It was the way the eyes caught the sun...or had they? They seemed to be glowing, actually glowing from within, the way a cat's looked sometimes in the darkness when a light was shined on them just the right way.

Up ahead, he could see more people. Three more people.

"Run!" Marcus shouted, blowing past Ed, who didn't have a gym membership. "Run! There's a psycho on the loose!" he shouted with reckless abandon.

Marcus suddenly tripped on something in the tall grass. He grunted and crashed to the ground. Ed stopped, breathing heavily, and turned to offer him a hand up. Marcus took a moment to see what the hell it was he'd tripped on.

"Oh...oh god," he moaned as he saw it.

"What the f... _oh shit!_ " he cried as he laid eyes on it as well.

It was an arm. A human arm. Ragged shreds of meat and bleached white bone stuck out of the shoulder. It had been torn directly from a human body. There was even some black cloth of what must have been a t-shirt attached to it.

It lay nestled in its own little pool of old blood.

"What is happening!?" Marcus heard himself scream as he scrambled to his feet.

The man in the business suit was gaining on them, he saw as he threw a terrified glance over his shoulder. He had reached the base of the hill and was working his way up it. He was not slowing, if anything, he was gaining speed.

"Uh, Marcus..." Ed said, raw fear dripping from his voice.

Marcus swung his head around and spied the three people he'd shouted the warning to. They were no longer standing at the top of the embankment. They were coming down towards them. One of them was a skinny teenager, another two were men in oil-stained overalls with baseballs caps and flannel shirts. With a growing horror, he realized that they, too, had blood-smeared mouths and hands. Ed moaned sickly.

"They're fucking cannibals, man!" he cried wildly. "What the hell happened!? Did civilization just go _nuts_ while were gone?!"

"Go! Now! My car isn't far!" Marcus replied, shoving Ed forward.

As they began wheeling left, away from both the new trio and the business man behind them, Marcus found himself thinking ridiculously of water buffalo running from a pack of lions. He heard an uneven chorus of demented sounds that only vaguely represented human language as they continued running up the hill, trying to avoid now four of the insane people.

Marcus made it up first. He crested the rise, his thoughts honed down to a narrow tunnel of focus: get to his car.

But then he stopped, so stupefied by what he saw before him: not one, but two fresh horrors. Ed bumped into him.

"Why'd you stop!?" he demanded.

"Look," Marcus whispered.

He pointed to the ground ahead of them. The trail connected with a blacktop road the ran to the left and right, they'd have to cross it to get to the ranger station, which was about a hundred feet away, built on a rise so that it overlooked the area.

"Oh...oh shit," Ed moaned.

It looked like a slaughterhouse truck had dropped its load on the street and the dirt around it. Thick pools of blood had gathered on the ground and the blacktop. Mixed in were pieces of what had once been people: fingers, hands, limbs, random bits of torn flesh. As visceral and disgusting as this was, the revelation that lay behind it, in the parking lot of the ranger station, was even more terrifying. Marcus heard Ed suck in a lungful of air.

"Your car!" he cried. "It's gone! They're _all_ gone!"

No escape. Behind him, the growls were getting louder, the deranged closer. In a sudden resolute gesture, Marcus turned around and faced the four insane people coming up the rise towards him. The man in the torn business suit had joined the other three and they were close now, very close. He could smell them, could smell his own, raw-edged fear.

"What are you doing!?" Ed yelled. "We need to go!"

"Wait," Marcus said simply, and stepped forward.

The nearest person, one of the men in overalls, was large, middle-aged. Perfect for what Marcus needed. Reacting fast, letting his body do the talking while his mind cowered in fear, he reached out, grabbed the man by his overall straps, yanked sharply forward, then pushed the man back with all of his strength.

Today was the day going to the gym would save his life, he decided.

The man let out a surprised grunt that still managed to sound somehow inhuman and stumbled backwards, losing his fight with gravity. He crashed into the other three, who all went flying, bowled over like ninepins. All four of them began to roll back down the hill. For a second, Marcus felt triumph shoot through him. Then he heard a branch break somewhere nearby and his head snapped around. He settled his gaze on a shifting, uncertain figure deeper in the woods to his left. And...no, not just one figure, but two, three.

He spun around, looked out over the grounds. He could see more people stumbling, lurching around at varying distances.

"Come on," Ed said, "we have to get to the ranger station."

Marcus nodded numbly. They hurried across the street, moving around the blood-soaked portion of the blacktop, and passed the dirt shoulder that separated the parking lot from the road. A waist-high brick wall served as a perimeter for the empty lot. They hopped the wall and ran across the parking lot, towards a wooden staircase and a wheelchair ramp that wound up and around to a deck that served as the main entrance for the station.

Marcus thought he could see people moving around up there, beyond the windows. What if they were more insane people? He looked closer, harder, as he began pounding up the stairs. They didn't seem insane, didn't move the way the others did.

No time for that now.

"Hurry up!" he called.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ed replied between heavy breaths.

Marcus came to the door and opened it up.

He froze as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.


	3. Chapter 03: The Ranger Station

"Wendell! Wait!"

Marcus' whole world had become a black hole, staring down the cold, metal barrel of a gun. It was like nothing he ever imagined. It was like looking into an open grave with his name on it. Around him, he could hear other voices, caught a peripheral of movement, but he paid it no heed. His attention was consumed by the gun.

Suddenly, it was taken away.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and a vicious shudder went through his entire body. For a second, Marcus thought his legs would give out and that he would collapse right there in the entryway to ranger station. But he put out his hands and steadied himself by gripping the door frame.

"I do apologize," someone said, the man who had first spoken. As the gunman stepped away, a new man appeared in Marcus' field of vision. "But I simply must ask you to come inside and close the door. It's not safe."

"Of...of course," Marcus said, still feeling a strange sense of dislocation. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he stepped through.

Ed followed him, then closed and locked the door behind him.

"No apology necessary at all from you, my new friend," the man said.

Marcus took in the two men before him. Wendell, the gun-wielder, was not the musclebound giant Marcus had, for some reason, been expecting. He turned out to be a tall, thin man in a coat, jeans and a red beanie. He had a long face and was shaking. The other man, who was smoothing the situation over, was older. He had dirty glasses, a receding hairline and a thin frame. The man seemed more like a teacher or librarian than anything else.

"Thomas Ritter," the man who seemed to be the leader of the small group said, extending his hand. Marcus took it and shook it awkwardly.

"Uh...Marcus...Campbell. Marcus Campbell," he murmured. He felt as though his brain were a ship that had slipped its moorings and was now adrift at sea. He looked around the ranger station, taking in the damage, the destruction.

It was obvious that a lot of fighting had gone on here. Several of the windows were cracked, some of them outright broken. The furniture was overturned and, in some cases, completely demolished. There were no actual corpses in the cabin, but he could see more blood. Besides Wendell and Thomas, there were three other people. One was a pale, dark-haired, harrowed looking woman in a dark sweater and jeans. She was tending to two others, who appeared to be wounded. One was a man in an orange hunter's vest and outdoors boots, the other was a skinny man with a ponytail. They were both actively bleeding.

"Wendell is prone to frights," Thomas was saying.

"What happened?" Marcus asked finally. "What the hell is going on?"

"What's going on is that Wendell and Sheila and myself volunteered for a mission significantly more dangerous than we thought. We came up from Spencer's Mill to hunt for supplies and survivors. I didn't think it'd be this dangerous," Thomas explained.

"But...what _happened,_ I mean-"

Thomas stopped looking around the cabin and looked directly at Marcus. "We're in a bad way," he said in a tense, confidential tone. "Our situation is desperate. We've already found these two and there are a lot more of the nasties up here than I had hoped. I need to defend this building, tend to the wounded so they don't die on us. At least stabilize them before we move them. I could never live with myself if I didn't conduct a more thorough search...you two seem hale and hearty. Would you please do me the favor of checking out the cabins and campsites?" he asked.

Marcus considering telling the man no, he wanted answers and he wanted them now, but he looked again at the two wounded. The woman, Sheila, was tending to them, but their wounds looked bad. With a sharp squeal, Marcus' attention was snapped to Wendell, who was pushing a large piece of furniture up against one of the broken windows.

"Okay," he said. "We'll help."

"Uh...we will?" Ed asked, sounding incredulous.

Marcus elbowed him in the ribs. " _Yes,_ we will."

Ed sighed, but held his peace. Marcus had never known Ed to back down from a situation when it became difficult, but sometimes he had to be persuaded. And in this case he didn't blame him. This was beyond the pale of anything they'd dealt with before, even he didn't know if he had it in him to do whatever it was that needed doing to survive the day. But this man, Thomas, knew more about the situation than they did.

"Thank you so much. Please, come here," Thomas said, moving across the ranger station to a desk with a map of the area pinned to the wall above it. "Are you familiar with the area?" he asked.

"Somewhat," Marcus replied as he and Ed followed.

"Good. Here we are," Thomas said, pointing to the center of the map. He moved his finger around. "There's some cabins I was hoping to check out, and a public restroom. I'm not sure which of the campsites were being occupied."

"We'll figure it out," Marcus said after a moment.

"There's a water tower to the side of the building. You can climb up it and get a good, bird's eye view of the situation," Thomas said. He hesitated, then reached behind him and pulled out a black revolver. He handed it to Marcus. "Here, take this."

"Are you sure?" Marcus asked, staring at the gun for a moment before taking it.

"Yes," Thomas said, "I'm sure. But listen, don't use it unless you absolutely have to. We're talking last resort here. The zeds are drawn to sound and when they cluster, well...you have to get pretty lucky to get out alive."

"So what _do_ we use against the, uh, zeds?" Ed asked. "Because I've seen this movie before, and the guy who tries to take on frickin' zombies with his hands ends up getting killed first, and I'm not gonna be that guy."

Thomas turned and crossed the room. He knelt down among a pile of debris and came back a moment later, sticking a two-foot length of narrow but sturdy pipe in Ed's hands. He took it and studied it for a moment, then said, "oh."

"I'll need something," Marcus said, opening up the chamber of the six-shooter and staring at the bullets within. It was fully loaded, but it was only six shots. He sighed and tucked the pistol down the back of his pants.

"Here," Thomas said after going to another portion of the room and coming back. He was holding a bright red crowbar. "This'll work wonders. It's standard movie rules," he explained, "headshots and crushed craniums are the only thing that get you any points. You _can_ kill them with body blows, but it takes a lot longer."

"Wonderful," Ed muttered.

"Thank you for this, and I hate to ask, but do you have any more bullets?" Marcus asked.

Thomas shook his head regretfully. "No, I'm sorry. It got a bit nasty on the way up and...well, those are my last six. Use them well...which means not at all, if you can manage."

"Silence. I've got it," Marcus replied.

He hesitated a moment further, desperately wanting to ask this man what had happened, but then he heard Sheila say, "oh god, I need some help here, he's passed out from blood loss!" He felt the press of time.

"Good luck, and thank you," Thomas said, then turned to go help.

As Marcus began to head towards the door, a sudden bang, followed by several more, made him nearly crap in his pants in surprise and fear. He saw that a pair of men in hunter's outfits were beating their bloody fists on the door, trying to get it open. They stared into the window with empty and, yes, Marcus realized, glowing eyes. Marcus crossed the room, Ed reluctantly in tow. The pair of them hefted their makeshift melee weapons.

"Get ready, man," Marcus said quietly.

"Shit, we're really going to do this, aren't we?" he muttered unhappily.

"Yep, we are actually going to do this," Marcus replied.

He reached up, unlocked the door and then shoved it open as hard as he could. Both men flew back away from the door. One of them tumbled over the edge of the deck, while the other went right back down the stairs it had climbed. Marcus heard a series of sharp snaps as the two bodies crashed into the ground. Bones, he realized after a second, it was their bones breaking. The one that had gone down the stairs had crashed into another. They were both tangled up together at the bottom of the stairs, having rolled into the parking lot.

He couldn't see the other one, who'd gone over the edge.

"Get them, Ed!" Marcus cried, feeling a sudden adrenaline rush.

He looked down at the crowbar in his hand. Was he really going to do this? He looked up, the zombies were getting to their feet. Zombies. _Zombies_. Yes, he was going to do this. Everything from their decayed skin to their glowing eyes to their blood-smeared mouths activated a bone-deep loathing in him. A visceral hatred.

He rushed forward, shouting something inarticulate, and brought the crowbar down on the top of the nearest zombie's skull. It caved in and the zombie immediately appeared to go boneless, flopping back onto the pitted, sun-bleached blacktop like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Oh man, oh man," Ed moaned, hefting his length of pipe, looking at the other zombie, who had gotten to its feet now.

"Ed-" Marcus began, wondering if he was going to have to do it for him.

At the last second, Ed raised his pipe and swung it into the thing's temple. There was a thick, awful crunch that seemed to tear through the air, and the zombie was thrown to its feet. It began shifting slightly, still alive by a thread, groaning mutely. Ed ran forward, screaming, and brought the pipe down on the thing's head again.

The zombie stopped moving.

"Oh, man, Marcus, I-" Ed vomited.

Marcus fought hard to hold onto his own breakfast. He could feel the harsh chemical burn of his bile rising in his throat. Turning away, he stumbled back towards the ranger station, coming to the brick wall that severed as a perimeter for the parking lot. Beyond it and beneath the wooden deck overhead was a small garden-like area of shrubs and bushes and underbrush. Amidst the greenery, he saw the corpse of the third zombie that had gone overboard. It had, apparently, landed on its head, ending any possibility of getting back up.

"Okay...okay...I'm okay," Ed said. "I never...oh man, I never killed..." he trailed off.

"They aren't people anymore, Ed," Marcus said quietly, turning around. "You hear me?"

"I...yeah, I hear you, man. This is nuts."

Marcus came back over to Ed. Blood, bone fragments and gray matter littered the blacktop now. He didn't look down at it. Instead, he inspected the immediate area. There were no more zombies around, at least none that might notice them. Marcus felt a tremor rip through him. He'd just killed two men. No. Zombies. They weren't men, he forced himself to think, they weren't people, not anymore. They were...things.

Monsters.

Creatures that needed to be exterminated, because their only reason for being, the entirety of their existence, was to cause pain and suffering for others. Nothing else. And if they might have been loving parents, businessmen, doctors, children, aunts or uncles before, well...he couldn't let himself think of that. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

"Come on, Ed," Marcus said quietly, putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder. Ed was still leaning over, his hands on his knees, trembling. "We need to get to the water tower."

"Yeah..." Ed said. He hawked and spat a few times, then straightened up. "Yeah, let's get to the water tower and get a...ah...view of the situation."

They began walking.


	4. Chapter 04: Campsites

The water tower was old and rusty, built into a weathered, wooden platform. Marcus eyed the black, paint-flecked ladder with unease, but began his ascension anyway. Despite his misgivings about the ladder, it held him. Still, he made Ed wait until he'd climbed onto the wooden platform. As he turned around and offered Ed a helping hand, then began climbing the second ladder that would take him to the top of the actual water tower, he was suddenly very, very glad for his exercising habits and healthy lifestyle.

Whatever was going to happen over the next few hours or days or weeks, it would very likely require a great deal of running and jumping and fighting. Marcus went to the gym five days out of the week. After work, he'd stop by for an hour and a half. He ran cardio either on the track or a treadmill, depending on his mood, and then spent half an hour lifting various weights. He was more interested in staying fit and trim than he was building muscle, and as a result, his body was long and lean, his muscles not very big, but still obvious.

Ed, on the other hand...might be a problem.

They came to the top of the water tower and looked around. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Marcus could still feel the tension of what they had just done, of what they were likely going to have to do over and over again if they wanted to survive, hanging on the air. Usually, it was Ed who made some kind of joke.

"Hey," Ed said suddenly, "you think that guy gave you the gun cause you're black?" he asked.

Marcus stopped surveying the landscape and turned to face him. He stared at Ed for a long moment, then abruptly burst out laughing.

"No, Ed," he said, grinning, "he gave me the gun because I'm still lean and mean and you're heading towards couch potato."

"Hey! I resent that," Ed replied.

Marcus reached out and patted Ed on his stomach. "Your gut doesn't."

"Sure, sure, whatever," Ed grumbled. "Doesn't make sense, anyway. If you're fit, then it's _your_ job to beat on the zombies. _I'm_ the guy should be holding the gun. Shooting a gun requires a lot less effort than beating some dead-head's skull in with a pipe."

"That's what makes guns so scary, Ed. Wonderful in a situation like this, but scary in the real world," Marcus replied. "Now, shut up and let's do our homework."

"Hate homework," Ed muttered.

Marcus felt better. Still shaky, still kind of sick, still very afraid, but he could always count on Ed to break the tension in an unhappy situation. He walked to the edge of the water tower's top and began to survey the land. The first and most unhappy fact that leaped to him was that he could see dozens of figures dotting the landscape. Far and nearby, on the road and in the woods, sunshine and shade, he could see them. None of them looked like survivors, though. They all had that awkward, shambling gait that the zombies possessed.

The environment began to give up its secrets though, as he continued his inspection. He could see a faded brick-walled public restroom tagged with some graffiti, two clusters of tents that represented the occupied campsites, a trio of cabins further on and finally he saw a small, fenced-in industrial style warehouse. But, most importantly of all, in the tiny gravel parking lot of the industrial warehouse, he saw...

"Ed, look, a truck!" Marcus said, pointing.

"Probably broken," Ed replied unhappily after a moment, "dead battery or out of gas or something. Otherwise, why would they leave it here?"

"Hey, doesn't hurt to try," Marcus replied. "Okay, look, see how everything's arranged in a kind of crescent moon shape?"

"Crescent moon?" Ed replied.

Marcus sighed. "Half circle!" he snapped. "We'll do it like that, make it quick. We'll start with the two tent sites, then we can take on that bathroom, and then, beyond that, is the cabins. After we check those, we can hit up that warehouse and the truck, then come back to the ranger station. We can do it in like half an hour if we move fast."

"But what if-" Ed began, then shut up as they both heard distant gunshots.

Marcus frowned, staring towards where the shots had come from. Beyond the campgrounds was another steep hill and beyond that was a river that fed into the lake. "Looks like someone else made it," he said. "Okay, we check the tents first, then we go down to the river."

"You want to go _towards_ someone with a gun?" Ed asked.

"Yeah," Marcus replied, heading back to the ladder and beginning the climb down. "Of course. They might know more than we do."

"Anyone knows more than we do at this point," Ed muttered unhappily.

Marcus didn't hold up much hope for the campsites as he finished climbing down. He jumped off the ladder at the end and landed with a soft grunt. Tents would be the first things to go in some kind of emergency situation. When there were zombies around, canvas tents didn't make for good places to hide. But still, there might be some kind of useful supplies in the tents. Marcus thought about their backpacks and abandoned gear.

Would they have time to go back and get it? He wasn't sure, and even if they did, was it worth it? There wasn't much left in the way of supplies in his and Ed's backpacks. They'd pretty much used everything up on the camping trip.

As they approached the first cluster of tents, Marcus was surprised at how quickly his mind was adapting to the situation. He found himself thinking that he should be hunting for relevant things: bottled water, non-perishable food in cans or bags, medical supplies, weapons. He was going to need every edge to survive whatever this situation was. Perhaps he had read enough books, played enough video games, seen enough movies, to have prepared himself for something like this. The reality of living in a zombie apocalypse. Or maybe it was just that he was a product of his time, an era obsessed with the collapse of civilization.

It seemed to him that everyone couldn't stop fantasizing about the scenario, and yet no one ever really seemed to think it through to the end. What was the endgame? All they ever talked about was freedom and getting to kill zombies and being able to do whatever you wanted, with no cops to tell you no. But to Marcus that just sounded like wretched chaos. There'd be no one to save you when you were truly screwed over.

Despite how he felt about the whole thing, some of the culture had seeped into his subconscious. Either way, he was grateful. Despite the fact that he had settled into something of a mundane routine, and that he managed not to think about dying or any greater purpose in life all that often, Marcus found that he desperately wanted to survive. To what ends? It didn't matter. He simply wanted to keep on going.

And he'd do whatever it took to stay alive.

The first tent they came to was a big, expensive one that was nearly the size of his bedroom back in his and Ed's apartment. Both of the flaps that served as doors were unzipped and rolled up, giving easy access to the interior.

"I'll check out here for anything," Ed said, heading to a picnic table that had a cooler and a few backpacks on it.

"Got it," Marcus replied, slipping inside.

For a second, he marveled at the interior. There was an expensive blow-up mattress, a queen-sized one, with a lot of comfortable looking pillows and blankets. Across from it was a flat-screen forty inch TV and a Blu-Ray player set up on a milk crate next to it. In another corner was a mini-fridge and a microwave. The whole interior floor was covered by expensive rugs.

" _This_ is camping?" Marcus muttered.

Why not just stay home? It had to be easier. He shook his head and made for the mini-fridge. Pulling it open, he stared inside. There wasn't much left, but there was something at least. Two bottles of unopened water and a couple cans of soda and beer. He ignored the beer, but began to go for the water and soda, then stopped. He had nowhere to store it. Closing the door, he stood and continued his search.

After finding nothing else of use, he joined Ed back outside, remembering the backpacks he'd seen piled on the table.

"Anything?" Marcus asked.

"Nothing," Ed replied unhappily. "If they had any guns, they took them with them. Not even a hunting knife."

"Well, shit, Ed, there's more we need than guns and knives," Marcus replied, sorting through the backpacks. He found the largest one and emptied it out onto the tabletop.

"What do you mean?" Ed replied.

"Food, water, first aid kits. We don't know how long this thing is going to last."

Ed stopped, then shook his head. "Don't be silly," he said, "I mean, something this big, the military's gotta be here. If not now, then soon, getting us out, right? I mean... _someone_ has to be doing something about this."

Marcus picked up the pack, then looked directly at Ed. "That guy back there, he wasn't a cop. He wasn't a fireman. He wasn't even a _doctor,_ Ed. He obviously wasn't with the military or the government. He was like, a teacher or something. And he was up here looking for survivors. Open your eyes, Ed, we need to help each other and ourselves."

"I...you don't know that," Ed replied uncertainly.

"It's better to be prepared, now grab that pack and help me find supplies," Marcus said.

Reluctantly, Ed nodded and began emptying a second backpack. Marcus returned to the tent and gathered up the water bottles. After a moment's hesitation, he abandoned the soda. He might like it, but it would only dehydrate him, ultimately. He stood and returned to Ed, who was putting a few more water bottles salvaged from the cooler atop the table into his pack.

"I'm ready," he said, shrugging into it.

"All right, let's keep the search up."

They moved on to the next tent of three in this cluster. This one was more traditional, more conservative. It was smaller, a typical triangle tent meant for little more than sleep and maybe sex. There was a grill with a cooler and a duffel bag next to it. Marcus pointed at the tent, and Ed nodded and went for it without a word. He shifted his attention to the scattered supplies around the grill that had been built into a concrete foundation. He opened up the cooler and sighed as he looked inside. Totally empty.

He shut it and turned to the bag. Zipping it open, he rooted around inside, finding mostly clothes. But, as he hunted, he felt something small and hard. He grabbed it and pulled it out, then grinned. Advil. He shook the bottle and listened, it seemed to be about half-full. He pulled out a black t-shirt from the duffel bag that he might need someday and wrapped it around the pill bottle, muffling any possible sound, and slipped the rolled up shirt into the bottom of his backpack. He finished searching the bag, then straightened up.

"Nothing," Ed said unhappily as he emerged from the tent.

Marcus sighed and they pressed on to the next tent in this campsite. They finished searching it, finding nothing of use, and moved on to the second cluster of tents. As soon as they began approaching it, both men froze. A pair of zombies were wandering around in between the tents. While Marcus was deciding how to handle this, they both took notice of the men, let out low groans and began to come towards them, arms outstretched.

"Shit," Ed whispered.

"Batter up," Marcus replied, hefting his crowbar.

One of the zombies was a teenager girl in a battered dress, her hair in a ragged ponytail. The other was a local in a vest with no shirt on beneath it and torn jeans. Ed was hesitating, so Marcus moved to take the girl, since he knew it would be the more difficult of the two to dispatch...psychologically speaking. He raised the crowbar and brought it down onto the girl's head. Her skull broke open with a sharp crack and she collapsed to the ground.

Ed stepped up and swung from the heel, hitting the outdoorsman so hard in the head that his face twisted around, his neck broken.

"God," Ed moaned.

"Yeah, I know, come on," Marcus replied.

There were no more zombies in the immediate area. They hastily searched the tents, finding not much else of use beyond a few more bottles of water. As they were finishing up, they heard more gunshots, seven more in rapid succession. They were much closer now. Marcus and Ed ran away from the campsites, towards the river. They crested the rise that offered a view of the river some thirty feet below. A few trails switch-backed across each other, leading down. Marcus saw someone running across the river.

And nearly a dozen zombies were following them.

"Come on!" Marcus said. "We've got to get down there!"


	5. Chapter 05: Maya

Marcus skidded down the steep embankments, ignoring the trails that would lead him more safely down to the river's edge. He could hear Ed complaining behind him. Marcus hit the first trail and dashed across it, moving to the next embankment, looking down at the river. The survivor was almost across the river now, and there were more zombies following them. He had to hurry. He began descending the next steep hill, grabbing on the occasional tree that for support. At the end of this one, the last one, he tripped and canted sharply forward.

He grunted, then groaned as he hit the final path, the rocks and dirt tearing at his palms. He picked himself up off the ground as Ed joined him.

"Yeah, _I'm_ the out-of-shape one," he said, helping Marcus up.

"Oh, shut it," Marcus groaned.

The pair ran the rest of the way down the path. The survivor, he saw it was a thin woman with dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail, was holding a pistol. Now she had finished crossing the river, which he realized was really more of a creek and less of an actual river, and turned to face her undead pursuers.

"Make sure none of them get too close, Ed!" Marcus called, pulling his pistol out.

The woman turned back to look at them briefly, then returned her attention to the zombies. Marcus looked down at the gun in his hand. After college, he'd finally decided he should buy a pistol for home protection. He went out and did the whole song and dance, getting his license, waiting for it to arrive, then going out and buying a gun. He'd picked up a nine millimeter gun that seemed steady enough and some ammo for it. He'd then taken it down to the local gun range about twice a week for a month, banging through a few hundred rounds.

When the thrill of actually firing a gun had worn off, he'd put it in a shoebox beneath his bed and there it stayed to this day. But during that month, he'd discovered that he was actually a pretty good shot, and had only gotten better with the practice. Now he was going to have to rely on his steady hands to save his life.

A gunshot went off. "You gonna use that thing!?" the woman snapped.

Marcus raised the gun. He didn't want to use up his only six bullets and possibly draw the attention of others, but it looked like he was committed to the situation. He counted off a baker's dozen splashing across the river towards them. Taking aim, he saw the woman had a black and silver pistol. She held it with both hands and fired again, putting a shot directly into the forehead of the lead zombie, which dropped to the ground, tripping up a few of the others.

Marcus took aim, zeroing his sights on another outdoorsman in a hunting vest and work boots. He squeezed the trigger. A split second later the creature's right eye exploded in a plume of dark red gore. He let out a small laugh, then made himself focus. The zombies were getting closer. He ended up using every last one of his bullets putting down the creatures, as a few other stragglers ended up joining the undead crusade to cross the river.

When it was done, the last body falling in a splash that sounded suddenly loud, the woman abruptly turned and pointed the pistol at Marcus, taking a step back so that she had both him and Ed in front of her.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked.

"Just...just to help," Marcus managed, his heart hammering in his chest harder than ever at this new and abrupt development.

The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, then lowered her pistol. "Okay, fine. My name's Maya." She took a deep breath and let it out.

Marcus studied her. She was young, had to be around his age, but she seemed older somehow, more composed, mature. She had Hispanic features and was dressed in an army camouflage jacket with tight, black yoga pants and tightly laced combat boots. She extracted the magazine from her pistol, fished out a handful of bullets from one of the pockets in her vest and began feeding them one by one into the magazine.

"Marcus Campbell," Marcus said.

"Ed," Ed said simply. "Uh...are you okay?" he asked.

"Other than the fact that my two best friends are dead and a bunch of insane people are trying to eat me? Fine, I'm just fine," Maya replied, slamming the magazine back into the pistol. She turned and began walking away, towards the paths that led back up to the campgrounds.

Marcus and Ed began to follow her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"I was out here hunting with a few guys from my unit. Colton and Strand. We've been out here for almost two weeks now, camping in the deep woods. We got jumped on the way back. These psychofucks tore my friends apart. I've been running and gunning ever since."

"Your unit? You in the Marines?" Ed asked.

Maya stopped for a minute, part of the way up the first trail. She turned to face them, rolling her eyes. "Army," she said. After a moment, she holstered hers pistol. "My turn. What the fuck is going on here? What's the sit-rep?" she asked.

"It's not good. We pretty much just stumbled out of the woods an hour ago, too. We found five survivors up in the ranger station, but two of them are badly wounded. They didn't really tell us anything, they asked us to check out the park, see if there was anyone else alive. We'd just got through the campsites when we heard you," Marcus explained.

Maya stared at them for a moment. "And no one knows how far this thing has spread? How it got started?" she asked.

"I know for sure it's at least in Spencer's Mill, because that's where some of the survivors came from. They were coming up here to look for others. I'd guess that it's spread across the whole valley and we're on our own," Marcus replied.

"What makes you think that?" Maya asked.

"Because the guy up here looking for survivors isn't official. There aren't even cops handling this thing," Marcus replied.

Maya frowned, then nodded. "Okay, so we finish searching the area. That can't take too long if we're quick about it. Come on."

She turned and continued walking up the path. Marcus and Ed followed. Marcus found himself immensely relieved to have her there. Maya seemed extremely capable and an incredible shot on top of that. Even if, like them, she was making it up as she went along, having someone like her along would vastly increase their chances for survival. At least, he hoped so. As they wound their way back up the trail, Marcus began studying Maya. Particularly her backside. She was wearing some very tight pants that showed off every curve.

He blinked and made himself focus, but it seemed difficult. Which didn't make any sense. He was in literally a life or death situation, why the hell would his brain suddenly suffer a lapse in logic and divert critical thinking towards focusing on some woman's ass? Even if it was a particularly nice, tight, well-formed ass. He wanted some cold water to splash on his face. Maybe it was just the situation. He remembered thinking that his brain was now like a boat adrift at sea, which was probably an apt description.

It meant that his thoughts were open to any sudden wave that came up and pushed them in another direction. It had been a while since Marcus had been with a girl. His last relationship had ended painfully six months ago and he hadn't really felt like dating since then. But now that zombies were up for grabs, he supposed his mind was free to wander anywhere. As they came back up to the campgrounds, Marcus honed his focus.

Another zombie had wandered over during their time down by the river.

Maya raised her pistol.

"Wait!" Marcus whispered harshly.

"What?" she asked, not lowering the pistol.

"Noise draws them. Gunshots are pretty damned loud. I heard you all the way from over by the ranger station."

Maya sighed and lowered her pistol. "Then what do you suggest?"

Marcus raised his crowbar, Ed his pipe. She stared at them for a moment, then smirked. She stepped back and motioned towards the approaching zombie.

"Be my guest."

"Uh, you sure you don't wanna?" Marcus replied, offering the crowbar to her.

"Nope."

Marcus sighed and moved towards the zombie. He hefted the weapon, gripped it with two hands like a baseball bat. Maybe a bat would be better. No, it'd probably break pretty quick. Marcus stopped moving, not wanting to be in motion for his swing. The zombie came to him. When it was within arm's reach, he swung.

Maybe it was the adrenaline or even the fear, but Marcus swung much harder than he had to. The crowbar connected with the zombie's skull and sent it spinning. Bits of bone and a lot of blood flew out in a visceral spray, staining the ground. The zombie crashed to the dirt, issuing no more movements, no sound.

"Damn," Maya said, walking over and staring at the head. "Look at that dent."

Marcus didn't want to. He was surprised at how well he was reacting to the whole killing people thing. Only they weren't people. He kept telling himself that. They weren't people, they were monsters. Mindless, hungry monsters.

But he knew he was likely headed for some kind of crash. He was in emotional shock right now. His brain wasn't allowing him to process the horror of what he was doing, because it knew that if it did, he would simply sit down and cry.

And that would get him killed.

"Come on, let's get that bathroom checked out," Maya said, making for the brick building.

Marcus lingered briefly, staring the body he'd produced.

Ed walked over, put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah...I...yeah, come on," Marcus managed.

He turned and began walking. Ed kept pace with him. They watched Maya walking ahead of them. Marcus gripped the crowbar more firmly, telling himself he _had_ to get through this, he _had_ to carry on. There was no other choice.

They reached the bathroom and began the hunt. They split up. Maya took the girl's room and Marcus and Ed the boy's. Marcus found that funny, in some small way. He pushed the door open, melee weapon ready for action. The bathroom was dark and smelled awful. After waiting a full five seconds and hearing nothing, the pair went inside.

Ed propped the door open because all the lights had died. Marcus looked around the men's room in the thin gray light. The tiled floor was filthy with dirt and grime. The walls were gritty and worn down from time. The mirrors were cracked and stained. Everything in this place spoke of decay and abandonment.

"Come on," Marcus murmured. "Let's check the stalls."

They moved deeper into the room. There were a pair of stalls built into the wall along one side, another trio occupying the other. They split up. Marcus pushed open the first door, saw nothing. He repeated the process, again found nothing.

"Oh, _god_ ," Ed moaned suddenly.

Marcus turned. Ed was standing in front of the middle stall across the room, the door open. His body blocked the view. Marcus approached, but stopped briefly. The awful smell that was lingering on the air was worse than ever.

"Ed, is it..."

"Yeah. Dead guy," Ed muttered. He stepped aside.

Marcus caught sight of a man seated on the toilet, his wrists slit, a straight-razor clutched in his pale right hand.

"Jesus," Marcus whispered. He reached up and closed the door, unsure of why he did. Maybe out of respect for the dead.

They checked the last stall and found it vacant. The pair left the bathroom, coming back out into the sunlight and the semi-fresh air. Marcus opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as they heard a muffled gunshot.

Then another. Then two more.

"Maya," Marcus said.

They began running.


	6. Chapter 06: A Bit of Luck

Marcus and Ed raced around the building, keeping an eye out for any other zombies that might be getting nearby, but didn't encounter any. They ran around the wall that enclosed the entrance to the women's restroom. The door was closed almost all the way, a mere crack remaining. Marcus crashed through it with his shoulder, stumbling into the room, Ed behind him, breathing heavily. They both brandished their weapons.

Maya was standing in the middle of the tiled room over a pair of corpses, pistol in hand. She spun around, raising the pistol, then stopped. A look of anger flashed across her face as she lowered the black and silver gun.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?!" she snapped.

"I thought..." Ed began.

"We heard gunshots," Marcus replied.

"Well, yeah. There were a few of the jerkoffs in here. I was inside a building with almost no windows and a closed door, so I figured the sound wouldn't bring any of the others running, so I put them down. It's not like I've got a melee weapon on hand," Maya replied. Her gaze drifted from Marcus to Ed, then back to Marcus, and suddenly she smirked.

"Were you coming to rescue me?" she asked. Before either of them could say anything, her smirk disappeared and her expression became hard. "Because I don't need it."

Marcus sighed quietly. "Fine, let's just get the job done."

Maya seemed to find that assessment adequate. Marcus pushed the door open all the way to let some light in and told Ed to stand guard. Together, he and Maya searched the women's restroom. There didn't seem to be anything of value hidden among the stalls or on the two bodies that Maya had produced. They left the bathroom.

"Now what, move on?" Ed asked.

"No, I saw a door at the back of the building when we were coming in," Marcus replied as they headed out of the enclosed area. "Probably some kind of maintenance area or something, might be something useful in there."

"Fine then, let's go," Maya replied.

They made their way around the back of the building. Marcus glanced up at the sun. He was startled to see how far it had traveled since his time by the lake. He wondered what time it was. That thought sparked another and he fished his phone out of his pocket. It was off, so it should still have a lot of power left. Marcus booted it up, suddenly very excited, then his hopes fell. Who the hell was he going to call, even if he could get a signal?

Either way, the phone booted up. There was, indeed, no signal. But time told him it was now past seven o'clock in the afternoon. In another couple of hours it would be dark. He sighed and replaced the phone after turning it back off.

Ahead of him, he heard Maya grunt angrily. He looked up to see her at the back door.

"Locked," she said, then, before either of them could reply, she abruptly bashed against the door with her shoulder. She grunted and it popped slightly out of its frame. Twice more and the door flew inwards, slamming against the interior wall.

Marcus winced at the noise, but no zombies came running at the sound. Once again, Ed stood outside while Marcus and Maya went within to inspect. There wasn't much inside the dimly-lit room. A battered metal shelf, a big red toolbox on the floor, a desk and uncomfortable foldout chair. The desktop was scattered with all manner of paperwork, magazines, pencils, empty coffee cups. While Maya went over to the toolbox, Marcus found himself staring at the desk, trying to imagine having a job that required him to spend most or even some of his day in a back maintenance room in a public restroom facility.

"Ah-ha!" Maya said suddenly, standing up.

Marcus glanced over. She hefted a big, silver hammer.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Marcus considered it for a moment. She had her pistol holstered, and it took him a second to realize it, but she had an actual holster. "Might get stuck," he said finally.

Maya frowned, assimilating this information, then turned around and crouched back down. He found his eyes involuntarily drawn to her ass and the way her pants were so tight as to be practically non-existent. He averted his gaze, feeling strange. Twenty six years and still he wasn't sure about the social protocol for checking out women. Sometimes they seemed pleased at the attention, sometimes angry, sometimes embarrassed.

Maya stood back up, hefting a big, red wrench now. "Well?" she asked.

"Looks like it could do some damage," Marcus replied.

"Good, anything in the desk?" she asked, moving over to the shelves.

Marcus replied by going over to the desk and opening the drawers. After a few moments, both of them had come up empty and headed back outside to join Ed.

"All that's left are those cabins, right?" Maya asked as they came around from behind the bathroom. She stared at the trio of cabins across the way, nestled at the forest's edge. They seemed silent and inert, ominous tombs.

"Them and a small warehouse," Marcus replied, setting off across the dirt and grass.

Maya and Ed followed. Each cabin was a small, single-story structure, coming complete with their own little lawn, picnic table and BBQ stand. There were no zombies around, at least in the immediate area. Occasionally, they all heard the distant, echoing moan of a dead-headed creature. Marcus found the noise terrifying.

They came to stand before the trio of cabins. "Split up or stick together?" Maya asked.

"We should stick together," Marcus replied.

"All right, but let's hurry up, I don't need to spend the night out here," Maya said.

With that chilling notion in mind, the trio crossed the lawn to the first cabin. Marcus went first, opening the door and stepping inside. He was alone. The main room tripled as a living room, bedroom and kitchen. There were only two doors. The place was a mess. The bed was a bloody wreck, the blankets and sheets shredded. The refrigerator hung open and empty. A bloody hand-print was smeared on the far wall.

The trio split up, searching any likely areas. Marcus moved to the two doors at the back of the room. The first led to a small closet with a dresser at the back. Nothing of any use there. The second was a bathroom, also empty.

With a heavy sigh, he returned to the main area and helped the others finish the search. After five more minutes, the trio left the first cabin and moved onto the second one empty-handed. A feeling of discouragement began to settle over them as they searched the next two and turned up nothing more than a backpack for Maya. She shrugged into the empty pack, seeming frustrated at the lack of supplies they'd turned up.

The final building was the fenced-in industrial warehouse with the truck. Marcus hoped it was still there. A part of him felt that he must have imagined the damn thing, that they weren't getting out of here, they'd always be stuck up on Mount Tanner.

They crossed the distance between the cabins and the warehouse. As they approached, Marcus threw a glance up at the ranger station, perched up high like some kind of monolithic overseer. He couldn't see anyone moving around inside but, then again, he was too far away to really make out any kind of details and the sun was reflecting off of most of the glass anyway. He was eager to get back, find out what was going on.

A small, discordant symphony of moans and groans issued from behind the weather-beaten wooden fence that surrounded the gravel pit parking lot of the warehouse. Through the wooden planks, Marcus glimpsed a handful of undead horrors waiting for them. He glanced at the others, hefted his crowbar. Both Ed and Maya did the same.

"Quick and quiet," Maya said.

Marcus and Ed nodded. They came to the edge of the fence, waited a few seconds, then, on some unspoken signal, rushed into the lot. Marcus counted around half a dozen of the things milling about the lot. He rushed the nearest one, a twenty-something man in jeans and a t-shirt, raised the crowbar and brought it down with a sickening crack on his head. The man dropped immediately, and the others began stumbling towards them.

Marcus, Ed and Maya made quick work of the zombies, swinging and smashing as they came to them. Blood, brains and bone fragments sprayed the graveled ground. Marcus felt sickness rising up in him once more, but pushed it back down with fierce determination. No time for weakness, no time for anything but getting the job done.

As the last zombie fell, Maya marched over to what might be the only vehicle left on Mount Tanner. It was a battered old blue pick-up from the previous decade, maybe even the one before that. It was covered in dust and rust.

Ed was breathing heavily. "God, Marcus, I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," he groaned, bent forward, hands on his knees. "These things..." he trailed off.

"Stow the shit!" Maya snapped suddenly. They both looked over at her, startled. "You two go weak on me and I'm cutting your asses loose." She pointed at the warehouse. "Go check it out while I see if the truck still works."

She stared at them, her face hard and unreadable. Marcus considered the situation. What if she was sending them off to check the warehouse while she just took the truck? He considered telling her to come with them, or let him check the truck, but knew it was fruitless. Maya was a great shot, she was fast and she could likely lay him out with one punch. If she wanted the truck, she was getting it. The only way he could take it was by force, a lucky shot maybe, and there was no way he could bring himself to do that.

He wanted her to trust him, but realized that trust was a two-way street. He and Ed were going to have to start trusting her.

"Fine, come on, Ed," Marcus replied.

"But, Marcus-" Ed began.

"Come _on,_ Ed," Marcus urged.

Ed sighed and turned. He and Marcus began making their way across the lot, towards the rust-eaten warehouse. Marcus opened the door. He peered cautiously within, the interior lit by the thin light still offered by the setting sun. No one and nothing waited for them within. A small hope he'd been holding onto died then. So there were no more survivors, just him and Ed and Maya and that group of people up at the cabin. Unless Maya decided to take off.

He prayed she didn't.

Ed came in behind him and shut the door.

"So, that Maya, she's something else," Ed said.

Marcus knew he wasn't referring to the heated conversation they'd just had back there. He rolled his eyes as he began hunting along a pair of shelves occupying the back wall. Ed walked up to him and helped.

"This is probably the worst time to discuss something like this," Marcus replied. "But she wears those pants _really_ well."

Ed laughed and elbowed him. "See, I knew it wasn't all doom and gloom."

"Yeah, yeah. What's the point of life if you can't laugh even once in a while? My old man always said that."

"I remember," Ed replied.

They searched in silence, not finding anything until Marcus came upon another desk, pulled open a drawer and grinned at his fortuitous discovery.

"Holy shit," he whispered, reaching in and pulling out the black revolver.

"Whoa, nice," Ed said.

Marcus set it down on the desk, reached in again and pulled out a full box of bullets. He couldn't believe his luck.

"You want this?" he asked, staring at the revolver and bullets.

"No, you'd better take it. You're a better shot than I am," Ed replied.

Marcus considered it for a moment, then pulled the pistol from his belt and checked it out. The bullets he'd found fitted both his revolver and the one in the desk. He fed six more shots into his own revolver, then flipped it around and handed it to Ed, handle-first.

"There's six shots in here. Last resort. And don't shoot me on accident," Marcus said.

Ed grinned as he took it and shoved it into his own belt. "What about on purpose?"

Marcus sighed and rolled his eyes. He loaded up the revolver, snapped the chamber shut and tucked it. He considered what to do with the extra twelve bullets and finally shoved the box into his pocket. He and Ed kept searching the shed until they heard the truck outside come to life. The pair exchanged glances and hurried out the door.

Maya sat in the driver's seat, the door open, a grin on her face.

"She works just fine! Almost a full tank, battery looks good and I even found the keys," she said. Then she pulled the keys from the ignition. Stepping back out onto the gravel parking lot, she closed the door behind her and locked it.

"Anything in there?"

"Revolver and some bullets," Marcus replied.

"Good find. Now let's get back to that ranger station and get some answers."


	7. Chapter 07: Alone Again

"So what, you two were camping? Just the two of you?" Maya asked.

They were hiking back to the ranger station. The shadows were becoming long now, the sun heading toward its grave, just beyond a fiery horizon. Marcus' disappointment in finding only a single survivor showed in how little he talked, how slow his pace had gotten. Ed was silent beside him. Maya was leading the way.

"Yeah. Why? You were up here hunting with your two friends? Just the three of you?" Marcus replied. The question came out angrier than he meant it to, but he wasn't sure where he stood with Maya. He got the feeling that she might look down on him simply for not being in some kind of armed forces. He was a civilian. Both him and Ed.

"Yeah," Maya replied after a moment's hesitation. All of the scorn and teasing had gone out of her voice, making Marcus stop looking around and instead focus directly on her. Maybe she was feeling guilty for just that reason. "I wanted to get away from all the bullshit," she said. "There seems to be more and more of it around nowadays...what did you do for a living?"

"Office drones, both of us," Marcus replied.

"Why were you down here? Where are you from?"

"We both live up in Worthington. Ed's originally from here. We come down once a year for a fishing and camping trip to unwind, get away from the world," Marcus replied.

"Fair enough," Maya said.

They fell into another uncomfortable silence as they pressed on. Marcus checked his phone again, finding it to be past eight o'clock now. How had the time gone so quickly? He was certain that they'd be able to canvas the cabins and campsites within half an hour. Time, he supposed, really was subjective, and there was no good way to keep track of it if you didn't have some kind of instrument. He put his phone back, looking around, scanning the area of any more of the creepies. There were maybe a dozen zombies in view, wandering around, but they were all far away, not having taken notice of the three living people.

Looking up at the ranger station itself, Marcus frowned. Something seemed wrong. It was too still up there, he couldn't see anyone moving around behind the glass. What did that mean? Could they have left without them? He supposed it was possible. Trying to make himself calm down, telling himself not to panic, Marcus focused on the notion that he could get back to the nearby town if he really had to. Even if he had to walk, he knew the way there.

But then what? Find other people, he hoped, more supplies, a place to stay for the night. The night...he really didn't want to be out here in the dark.

The trio of survivors hit the blacktop and began to move across it. Glancing up again, Marcus caught sight of movement in the windows. He felt relief pour through him like a cool blue wave, but it soon turned to fear as he realized something was wrong with the way they were moving. It was too slow, too awkward, almost like...

"Shit," he heard Maya say.

"What?" Ed asked fearfully.

"I think something might have gone wrong with your friends." She hefted her wrench, and Marcus reluctantly did the same with his crowbar.

Maya took the lead, Marcus right behind her, Ed bringing up the rear as they ascended the stairwell. She reached out and cautiously pulled the door open. A low moan drifted out of the ranger station, the sound causing gooseflesh to break out all across Marcus' body. He tightened his grip on the crowbar.

"Watch our backs, Ed," he said as he followed Maya into the station.

"Got it," Ed replied.

There were three undead milling around, and several bodies on the floor. Among them, Marcus spied Wendell and the woman who had been tending to the wounded. The zombies became aware of Marcus and Maya, turned and began coming towards them. Maya brought her wrench down hard on the first zombie, a man in a vest and hiking boots with short, dark hair. His skull caved in and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Marcus realized it was his turn up to bat. He brought the crowbar around in a tight arc, sending a spray of blood and brain matter flying from the fractured cranium of the next zombie to step up to the plate, a woman in a waitress's outfit. Maya finished off the third zombie with another shark crack, and all was still in the cabin.

"I thought you said you had survivors up here," she whispered harshly.

"We did, there were..." Marcus murmured.

"It's all clear out here, what...oh," Ed said, trailing off as he stepped in and surveyed the horrible aftermath that befell them. "Jesus," he whispered.

"We can't stay here, that much is obvious," Maya said. She knelt and began checking the bodies. "See what you can find, some of them might have guns or bullets."

"Ed...see if you can find Thomas, he had a gun," Marcus said quietly, kneeling by the woman, Shelia had been her name, and checking her pockets.

"Yeah...okay."

Ed crossed the room, hunting through the bodies. For a long moment, nobody said anything. The cabin was filled with the sounds of rustling, of the living searching the dead that they might continue living. Finally, Ed made a small noise.

"Found Thomas," he said.

Marcus glanced over. Ed was kneeling over another body at the far side of the room. Marcus stood and began moving to join him, carefully stepping over the corpses. He was tempted to hold his breath, or at least open a window, the smell was getting bad.

"Yeah..." Ed said after a moment with his finger against the man's neck. "He's definitely dead all right...hey, he's got something in his hand, looks like a-"

Ed let out a shriek of pure fright as Thomas abruptly leaped up, wrapped both arms around Ed's torso, pulled him down and bit him in the area between his shoulder and neck. Marcus cried out in sympathetic pain as he saw Thomas come away with a mouthful of bloody skin. Ed screamed in agony, falling back onto his ass, scooting away.

Marcus ran up and cracked the late Thomas across the head, knocking him over. The thing started to get up again and he hit it twice more, hard, in rapid succession. There was a sharp snap and then Thomas was still.

"He was dead, he was _dead!_ " Ed moaned, hand over his wound, which was gushing blood between his fingers. "That guy was fucking _dead,_ man!"

"Okay, we get it!" Maya snapped, cautiously approaching him.

"Oh, Ed..." Marcus whispered, staring at the blood. "Christ, man, we gotta get you some first aid." He looked around frantically.

"I didn't see any," Maya said, still holding back, hovering uncertainly.

"Shit...here! Hold on!" Marcus was suddenly struck by inspiration. He shrugged out of his pack, brought it around and opened it up. Rifling through it, he pulled out a bottle of water and the t-shirt he had wrapped around the bottle of pills.

"Hold out your hand, your not bloody one," Marcus said. Ed did as Marcus rattled out four of the pills, then unscrewed the cap and passed it to Ed. "Swallow, hurry."

Ed was looking very pale and his eyes were slightly unfocused, but he did as he was told, swallowing the pills down. Replacing the pill bottle into his pack, Marcus then carefully pulled Ed's hand away from his shoulder and dumped the rest of the bottled water across it, causing Ed to cry out in pain.

"Sorry, buddy," he said quickly, then tossed the bottle aside, pressed the t-shirt against the wound and replaced Ed's hand over it. "Hold it there, we have to stop the blood."

"To what end?" Maya asked.

Marcus glanced back up at her. "What?"

"To what end? What if it's the bite that turns you?"

"Well...what if it isn't? You wanna just _give up?_ " he snapped.

"God, even if it isn't, do you know how hard it is to survive a bite from a human mouth without proper care? It'll get infected..."

"You're going to fucking help us, _do you hear me?!_ " Marcus screamed suddenly, fury and rage at the situation, the unfairness of being thrown into a zombie apocalypse, of losing what little help he had waiting for him, tearing through him.

Maya seemed taken aback by the sudden outburst, literally taking a step back, then she seemed to come to a decision. Nodding tightly, she said, "get him up, we're going for the truck, we're getting out of here and back down to that little town I saw coming in."

"Spencer's Mill...and thanks," Marcus said quietly after a second.

He helped Ed up and as he did, saw something dark, rectangular and important lying on the ground. Kneeling, he snatched it up and studied it for a moment. A radio, that's what Thomas had been holding before he'd tried to eat Ed, a damn radio. Marcus pocketed it for the moment. He'd try it out later, pray that someone was on the other end.

With Maya leading the way, her pistol now in hand, Marcus helped Ed down the stairs, across the blacktop and towards the waiting truck, their only way out. The sun was setting faster now, the first of the stars popping into existence, the moon rising on the far horizon. It was cooling off, the heat of the day bleeding away.

Ed was muttering quietly to himself, and Marcus thought that he was in shock, bordering on delirium. He hoped the painkillers were taking effect and that his friend wouldn't have to suffer through the worst of it. Hell, at this point, he'd settle for knowing that Ed would make it out of this alive. All around him, he saw more zombies, and now, as darkness fell, their creepy glowing eyes were that much more obvious.

They finally hit the gravel parking lot, not having to fight to get there, at least. Maya climbed into the driver's seat and Marcus shoved Ed into the middle seat, buckled him him, then closed the door and buckled himself in. As Maya keyed the ignition, abruptly, the radio in his pocket jolted to life in a squeal of static and a muffled voice.

Maya stared over at him and he stared back. He pulled out the radio and looked down at it for a second, as though it was some artifact he'd never seen before.

A young woman's voice came out. _"Dad? Dad are you there? Can you hear me?"_

"Oh _shit,_ " Maya groaned.

Marcus swallowed and licked his dry lips, then brought the radio up. "Uh...hello?"

A pause. _"Who's this?"_

"My name is Marcus. My friends and I are up on Mount Tanner, we're getting ready to leave, but my friend has been attacked...can you help us?"

Another pause. _"Can you make it down to Spencer's Mill?"_

"Yeah, we can."

" _My name's Lily. Some of us are holed up at the Church of the Ascension, you know where that is?"_ she asked.

"Yeah," Marcus replied, remembering the way there.

" _Good. Get down here as quick as you can, if your friend doesn't look too dicey, then maybe we can work out some kind of deal."_

"Work out a deal? We're in _trouble,_ there are fucking _zombies_ everywhere, what do you mean a deal?!" Marcus replied, his voice rising.

" _I...it's not that simple, not anymore. Look, just get to the church and we'll talk, okay?"_

Marcus sighed. "Yeah, okay."

He replaced the radio in his pocket.

"Fantastic," Maya said as she started up the engine. Marcus didn't say anything, instead opting to sit back and wait for the ride to be over. They pulled out of the gravel parking lot and onto the road, making their way away from the mountain, away from the slaughterhouse that had once been known as a ranger station.

Spencer's Mill. It was the smallest of the three towns in Trumbull Valley. There would be a lot to do when they got down there, he imagined. A million thoughts raced through his head, wondering about how far it had spread, who might of survived, how _he_ was going to survive this chaos. However, all thoughts abruptly ceased.

Maya slammed on the brakes.

The bridge that ran over the river, that connected Mount Tanner to the rest of civilization, had been destroyed.

They weren't driving out of here.


	8. Chapter 08: Take Shelter

Darkness was definitely coming now. Obviously he'd been wrong about the sunset. How could he forget something so mundane? Marcus found these thoughts and more racing through his head as he sat in the passenger's seat of a beat up old pickup and stared at a ruined bridge. The only way out of this godforsaken nightmare. The only way off of Mount Tanner. Maya was sitting quietly next to him, Ed still in the backseat, as silent as ever.

"You okay back there, Ed?" Marcus asked quietly.

"Yeah," Ed murmured. "I'm doing just fine, pal."

"Obviously, we'll have to climb down," Maya said suddenly, killing the engine and stepping out of the truck.

Marcus began to get out as well, realizing that she was right, but then he noticed something: she'd left the keys in the ignition. "You aren't going to take these?" he asked.

"No. Won't do us any good. Might do someone else some good," Maya replied.

Marcus sighed. "Well, you gotta take them out of the ignition. Leaving them in there will run the battery dead," he said, pulling them out and putting them on the dashboard.

"Oh...yeah, I guess you're right," she murmured, her self-possession briefly misplaced. She seemed to straighten up a bit, pulled out her pistol. "Come on."

Marcus turned and helped Ed out of the back of the truck. He checked the makeshift compress he'd made over the wound and frowned at how much blood was there. What could be done? They had to get to the church, get Ed into a bed of some sort. All this moving around couldn't be good. Marcus glanced towards the bridge and saw that Maya was already ahead of them, moving over to the right side of the bridge. Worrying that she'd leave them behind, he set off, looking back over his shoulder to make sure his friend was keeping up with him.

Ed still seemed to have decent mobility, but he was quiet and seemed a little distant. Blood loss and shock, probably. This was no place for a man in his condition, but again, what choice did they have? By the time the pair caught up with Maya, she had discovered something.

"Look," she said, crouching, pointing. "A ladder. We can climb down, cross the creek and climb back up. Shouldn't take more than ten minutes."

She went first. Marcus watched her narrow face disappear from view, then went down after her. As soon as he was a little ways down, Ed joined them. The trio made their way down the old, rusty ladder that had been lashed onto the side of a cliff face with bolts and determination. Marcus wondered how old it was, what the chances of it falling were, when was the last time it had been serviced...not exactly great thoughts at the moment.

He heard a small sound from below and glanced down. Maya had stepped off the ladder, and she was staring at something, not moving...Marcus followed her gaze and, for a second, was frozen in place with sheer terror. Then Ed stepped on his hand.

"Ow!" he whispered harshly.

"Why'd you stop?!" Ed replied.

"Shut up!" Marcus snapped. "Ed, look, down the creek..."

Ed stopped moving, shut up and saw. Further down the creek, maybe fifty feet away, were a cluster of zombies, about a dozen or so. They were walking away, grouped together, moaning and groaning in a gentle chorus. Marcus finished climbing down as quickly and quietly as he could, and came to stand next to Maya.

"Why are they grouped together like that?" she whispered.

"Herd mentality? Echoes of their former lives?" Marcus murmured in reply. "Either way, what does it matter? Let's go in the opposite direction."

Maya shook her head and pointed. "No, look."

Another ladder had been lashed to the nearest rock face on the opposite side. Unfortunately, the nearest flat rock face was about thirty feet away...in the direction of the zombies. Ed finished with the ladder and was brought up to speed on the situation by way of Marcus pointing. It took Ed a minute to figure it out in the dying light, but he let out a low groan of frustration and fear.

"Come on," Maya whispered. "We'll do this quietly. We'll head down the bank on our side, then cross when we get to the ladder. Got it?"

Both men responded affirmatively. They made their way quickly and quietly down the riverbank, trying to compromise between keeping a distance from the zombie collection and moving quickly. Within a minute, they were parallel with the ladder. Maya threw a quick, worried glance at the zombies, then began crossing. Marcus and Ed moved after her. The water was cold but only ankle-deep. They'd made it halfway across when Ed suddenly slipped.

"Shit!" he shouted, collapsing into the water, splashing around.

"Dammit, you moron!" Maya shouted.

A general roar went up from the zombies as they became aware of the others' presence.

"I'm sorry!" Ed cried as Marcus pulled him up. "I was bitten by a goddamned zombie!"

" _Run!_ " Marcus screamed.

The zombies were coming for them now, roaring and screaming, splashing through the water. Maya hit the ladder first and scrambled up it faster than Marcus thought possible. He shoved Ed up after him and as soon as there was room, he began climbing up, too. He glanced back down at the zombies. The closest ones were within ten feet.

"Hurry!" Marcus called.

Looking back up, he saw that Maya was already gone and Ed was disappearing over the top. Good, they were almost there. Besides, what did he have to worry about? Zombies didn't know how to climb or-clang! Marcus cried out as reverberations shook up through the ladder. He looked back down and cried out again.

The first zombie had reached the ladder...

 _And it was climbing up it!_

"Help!" he called.

Maya reappeared over the edge, staring down at him, then past him. "Hold still!" she called. He froze as she pulled out her pistol and pointed it right at him.

"Wait!"

She pulled the trigger. There was a brilliant flash and a powerful explosion of sound that rendered him nearly deaf for the moment. Then she was shouting, "move your ass!" at him and he was doing just that. He moved as quickly as caution would allow, terrified of losing his grip and falling off into a pile of zombies that would rip him to shreds while, simultaneously, eating him. Somehow, he managed to make it up over the top.

"Come on!" Maya snapped, helping him to his feet and shoving him forward. They were in a field in between the road to the left, leading away from the bridge, and a sparse forest to the right. There were zombies in the forest. Ed grunted as, presumably, Maya shoved him, too. Marcus didn't know for sure because he was too busy running.

There was a car on the road.

It was dark and immobile, abandoned most likely. Marcus prayed that it wasn't out of gas or had a dead battery or flat tire. Behind him, there was growling, a lot of it. Maya shouted at him to go faster, and then she ran past him. She was in _good_ shape. He picked up the speed, then glanced back at Ed, who was lagging behind.

And the zombies were getting closer.

Of course, these were the running kind. He heard a car door open and looked forward again. Maya had reached the car and was in the driver's seat. He saw her frantically searching for keys. Marcus felt the gun that was tucked into his waistband. He reached the road, stopped, turned and pulled out the pistol. Time to put that shooting practice to use.

"Get to the car, Ed!" he shouted.

"Marcus, no-"

" _Now, Ed!_ "

Ed hesitated a second longer, then ran on to join Maya at the car. Marcus took aim and fired. The nearest zombie's head exploded in a plume of dark gore and it collapsed immediately. He shifted his aim, fired again, and missed. Cursing, he forced himself to focus and fired a third time. Then a fourth, fifth and sixth. All of those following shots were hits, and four more zombies went to the ground. Out of bullets.

The car engine kicked to life.

"Come on, Marcus!" Maya called.

Marcus turned and sprinted across the road, getting into the front passenger seat of a red, four-door station wagon. Maya already had the headlights on. Even before he could finish closing the door, she threw it into drive and took off, speeding down the road.

"Slow-slow down," Marcus said, his hands trembling from adrenaline. "We don't need to get in a wreck after all that."

"Uh, yeah," Maya replied, braking slightly, bringing their speed towards something reasonable.

"How you doing, Ed?" Marcus asked, fumbling with revolver until he got it open and emptied the spent brass into his lap. He brushed it aside, onto the seat and the floor, reached into his pocket and began reloading the gun.

"Tired...out of it," Ed replied. "Spent, man. Think I need a nap."

"Fine. You relax. We'll get you there safe," Marcus said.

"We hope," Maya muttered.

Marcus finished reloading the gun in silence, twice dropping bullets and wasting several moments recovering them. Maya navigated the lonely road that curved and twisted through the countryside, making her way towards Spencer's Mill. Marcus finished reloading the gun and set it in between his feet, unwilling to hold onto it but also unwilling to slip it back into his waistband while he was sitting. He'd need to find a holster.

As they kept driving, weaving their way around wrecked or stalled cars, passing clumps or isolated pockets of zombies, Marcus suddenly found the silence unbearable.

"Where are you from?" he asked quietly, hearing Ed's soft snores.

"Uh...Missouri. Kansas City," Maya replied, seeming distracted, like she'd been deep in thought.

"Why'd you join the Army?"

"What is this, twenty questions?" Maya snapped, her voice hard-edged again. She sighed after a minute. "Sorry, this is all just...stressful. I, uh, joined because, well...I don't know. I guess I was good at the things you needed to be good at to succeed in the army. I wasn't good at anything, like, creative. I could've made it through high school with my eyes closed. Practically did. I went on to community college but it was just more of the same...slackers and easy classes, jocks and assholes only interested in what was between my legs. I swear to god, if I hear 'treat her like shit and she'll put out easy' one more time someone's going to swallow a bullet...

"So, I dropped out, joined the army."

"That must've been crazy," Marcus murmured.

"Yeah, it was. Got shipped off to Afghanistan. Lots of shooting, lots of psychotic assholes willing to strap on a bomb and die...or willing to convince a kid to do the same. Jesus. You want to talk about true evil in the world..."

Suddenly, a zombie stumbled out in front of the car. No time to swerve, but Maya did just a little, so that the car hit the poor bastard in such a way that it wouldn't fly up over the hood and smash the windshield. Even so, blood splashed all over the glass.

"You gonna hit the wipers?" Marcus asked after a moment.

"No, that just makes it worse. I can still see."

"How do you know it makes it worse?"

Maya snorted. "I told you, I was in the Army."

Marcus fell silent. They came to a tunnel that was choked with a snarl of wrecked, burned cars. For a moment, Marcus thought they were screwed, but Maya found a way through. Now that things were quiet, he had a moment to think. What would they do once they got to the church? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed that civilization was gone.

It was every man for himself.

Part of him refused to believe this, another part argued that it was stupid not to. They finally compromised and agreed that civilization within the valley itself was probably gone, but it was entirely possible that it could be gone or totally fine beyond the valley. Either way, he supposed, it didn't matter. He had to survive, and that would (hopefully) be easier with more people. What was waiting for him in the next few days?

Marcus could come up with nothing pleasant, so he decided to stop speculating. Instead, he opted to stare out the window until they reached the church. Maya parked in the dirt lot between a truck and a jeep. Marcus glanced up and saw something interesting: a cement block wall that surrounded the church was topped by barbed wire.

"Huh, they've really set up shop here," Maya said quietly.

They killed the engine and stepped out, moving along the dirt parking lot until they came to a black iron fence. A makeshift watchtower sat within the wall, made of little more that forty gallon drums and wood. A girl and an older man stood just beyond the fence. Maya, Marcus and Ed stood and waited, listening to them argue.

"You're worse than your idiot brother! Who the hell said we can take on more people!?" the older man snapped. He was dressed in a ranger's uniform and his voice reminded Marcus of R. Lee Ermey, the insane drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket.

"You're not in charge, Alan! This is a _community!_ " the teenage girl, Lily, Marcus realized, recognizing her voice, shouted back.

"And there wouldn't be any goddamned community without me!...whatever, do what you want," he said. He threw a dark gaze towards the three of them, sneered and then turned and stomped off.

Lily came over and opened the gate. She stared at the three of them for a moment, then smiled and stepped back.

"Welcome to the Church of the Ascension."


	9. Chapter 09: Refuge

Lily turned out to be a short, pale brunette of maybe eighteen. She wore a blue jacket and jeans with work boots and though her face was friendly, her expression was also guarded. She seemed to look the three of them over, her gaze lingering on Ed, who wasn't looking too good.

"The first thing I've got to know...does the bite turn a man?" Marcus asked.

Lily shook her head. "No, it doesn't."

"Oh, thank god," Ed muttered.

"Okay then, first things first, we need to get Ed some medical help and a place to lie down."

"I can help with that," a new voice declared.

Marcus glanced over and saw a portly, balding man in his fifties with a broad, open, friendly face limping over. He wore religious clothing and Marcus realized he must be affiliated with the church. He came to stand next to Lily.

"I heard about your situation from Lily, son. If you'd like, I have a place for you to rest and some medical supplies. Not much, I'm afraid, but I'd like to help. I'm William Mulroney, I'm a Pastor here at the church."

"Thank you," Ed said, moving towards him. "I'd love to lie down."

"Come with me, son."

Marcus watched Ed follow William towards a gazebo to the left, in between the cinder-block wall and the church. He supposed it would have to do for now. Returning his attention to Lily, he was determined to get some answers.

"I need to know what happened. How did we go from civilized to post-apocalyptic in two weeks?" he asked.

"I'd like to know that myself," Maya added.

Lily stared at them silently for a moment, a look of incredulous surprise on her face. "You mean you don't know? Either of you? You _really_ don't know about all this?"

"No, we've been in the woods on vacation. We just stumbled out today into this mess," Marcus replied.

Lily sighed. "Okay...come with me. I might as well give you the nickle tour and tell you what's going on since I'm obviously not going to throw you out...at least not for the night."

"Gee, thanks," Marcus muttered.

"That's the watchtower," Lily said before going anywhere, pointing to the tower of forty gallon drums and wooden planks that had been assembled in one corner of the walled-in yard. It didn't look very stable. It was positioned right next to the gate they'd come in through. "Besides that and the gazebo, everything else is inside the church. Come on."

She led them across the courtyard towards the front entrance of the building. There were no lights on, no soft hum of power. Besides the whispering of the winds, the occasional distant groan and the soft, comforting tones of the Pastor speaking to Ed, there were no sounds. It was full dark now, the stars twinkling overhead, as brilliant as could be. Marcus stared up at them briefly as he walked. It was difficult to see them so clearly in the city, but this celestial clarity was something he always associated with vacations.

Lily led them up the cracked, cement steps and through the front door into a large, open room. Marcus could easily envision twin rows of benches pointing towards the front, where a podium was. He could see the benevolent Pastor William presiding over a small congregation, delivering a sermon. Now, the benches were stacked along one wall. He saw pieces of some of them nailed over the windows. In one corner was a desk with a mess of what looked to be radio equipment scattered across the top, a battered, old foldout chair pushed under it.

In the opposite corner was a large, battered, old metal gun locker, a chipped wooden shelf and another desk with several drawers. Lily stood in the center of the room, fixed them with her sharp gaze and began to give her own sermon.

"It started happening about two weeks ago, maybe a little less. People started getting sick, a _lot_ of people. And there were reports on the news. Strange stuff, random assaults, people just attacking each other for no reason... _eating_ each other. The city went into marshal law, like a lockdown, after five days. Then the national guard was here and they told us to stay in our homes after a week. Then...I don't know, everything just kind of went to hell. I remember calling 911 because someone was breaking into our house and no one answered.

"That was kind of the wake up call. That was about five days ago. Me, my dad, my brother and a few people we had taken into our house headed for this church. It just seemed like the place to be, I guess we thought we'd be safe here. We were...at first..." she trailed off.

Marcus became distracted by footsteps outside. He walked to the nearest window and saw the grumpy middle-aged man in the park ranger outfit was carrying a high-powered rifle, stomping across the courtyard towards the watchtower. When he reached it, he began climbing the rickety ladder. Marcus turned away from the window.

"This is sort of the base of operations," Lily said. She pointed to the radio set up Marcus had noticed. "I pretty much spend all my time on the radio. It's...really the only thing I'm any good at. I try to coordinate with other survivors, listen for calls for help or make deals...And over there, those shelves and the gun locker, that's where we keep the mishmash of supplies you might find yourself needing if you're heading into the city."

"And why would anyone be heading into the city?" Marcus asked, staring at the supply station.

"Because we can't last forever here. We need fresh supplies," Lily replied, sounding a little frustrated.

"What's through there?" Maya asked suddenly, pointing to the only other door in the room, along the back wall. Marcus thought it strange that she was playing the diplomat, trying to avoid a verbal confrontation, but also thought she was right.

"That's the kitchen," Lily said, turning and walking towards it. The pair followed her through the open door and into a tightly-packed kitchen. A black woman wearing tan cargo pants and a shirt that said _Ask me about my Big Dick_ was sorting through cans. She wore a pistol on her hip. She glanced over as the trio entered the kitchen.

"This is Sam. She usually does the cooking around here," Lily said.

"Yeah, that's because I'm the only one who _can_ cook," Sam muttered. "These some newbies we're going to be feeding?" she asked.

"Yes, Sam. Three people came down from Mount Tanner and they'll be staying with us," Lily replied.

Sam merely shrugged, grunted and went back to sorting the cans. There were two more doors in the room, one in the right wall, one at the back. Lily led them to the right wall and showed them the final room in the church: a bedroom. It had been packed full of things, namely three pairs of bunk beds. There was just enough room for a chair, a small dresser and a nightstand. Marcus noticed another door at the back of the room, between two of the bunk beds, and caught sight of a toilet. It must have been the only bathroom in the building.

Lily led them to the final door at the back, which just led back outside, letting out not far from the gazebo.

"And that's it, that's the tour," she said. They walked to the gazebo, where William was looking at a thermometer and frowning.

"I'm afraid you have a fever," he said softly. Marcus saw that Ed's wound was properly bandaged. William turned to face them. "I only had a few painkillers and some Neosporin to give him. It will help with the pain, but if he's got a fever, he has an infection, and there's nothing I can do about that. We simply don't have the resources. I'm sorry."

"So what _can_ we do?" Marcus asked.

"I've got a few ideas. There's a doctor, Hanson, who travels around a lot, tending to the various...communities? Survivors? I don't know what to call them. Tending to the people spread out across the city. I'll start trying to get in touch with him as soon as we're done here. But what we're really going to need is medicine. I'm not sure where we can get that...I'll have to think about it. For now, he'll just have to rest," Lily replied.

"Fine," Marcus said uncertainly, not happy with the outcome of the conversation, but not knowing what else to do. He wanted to say something to Ed, but the man was asleep. He looked peaceful, at least. Lily was walking away, back towards the gate and the watchtower. Marcus and Maya followed her. Lily led them to the front porch, then stopped and looked at them unhappily. She seemed distinctly uncomfortable.

"So, I didn't want to say anything in front your friend, but...a fever is a bad sign. If we don't find some antibiotics soon, he probably won't live to see Doc Hanson. Now, while he won't turn while he's still alive, it seems that everyone who dies _does_ turn after death. If that's the case, I promise Alan will take care of him...bullet to the brain. Quick and painless."

Marcus felt a splash of cold fear wash through him at the thought of Ed being shot in the head. The fear quickly turned to irrational anger at Lily for even suggesting it. "Jesus, Lily, he's not a fucking rabid dog that needs to be put down!" he snapped.

Lily's features screwed up. "Don't you think I know that!?" she cried. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "Look, more of us died than lived. Do you know how slim our chances of survival are right now? There's hundreds, maybe thousands of them out there, and the government or the military obviously isn't coming to help us. We're on our own. We can't afford to be softhearted about this. You got it?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'm sorry. I just...this is a bit much, you know?" Marcus murmured.

"I know. It's fine. But...well, continuing what I just said, we can't have any dead weight around here. Everyone needs to be doing something to continue our existence. No slackers, you know?" she asked, sounding apologetic but firm.

"I'm no slacker," Marcus replied.

"Me neither. I'm in the Army. I can run, I can gun. I also noticed some gaps in your barbed wire set-up I could fix, and I could probably make that watchtower a bit sturdier. I can also pull guard duty or repair guns if you need," Maya said.

"Wow, we really lucked out with you," Lily murmured.

"I'm afraid I'm not as useful. But I am fit and not afraid of hard work," Marcus said.

"Fair enough," Lily replied.

"If you don't need me for anything, I'm going to get something to eat and go to sleep for the night," Maya said.

"That sounds fine," Lily replied.

Maya turned and walked into the church. Marcus lingered a moment longer. "So what's his problem?" he asked, looking up at Alan atop the watchtower.

Lily snorted. "Oh, poor Alan...he's one of those guys who takes himself too seriously. The way he talks, you'd think he was some hardcore Special Forces vet or something. But he's not. He was in the police force for a while, but he was fired...I don't know why. It was before my time. He picked up work as a park ranger maybe fifteen years ago. He's just got a stick up ass is all, and I don't see it coming out anytime soon."

"So, you, Alan, Sam and William...just the four of you?"

"No, there's my dad and brother, too, but they're both out for supplies. Honestly, I'm starting to get a little worried about them," Lily replied.

Marcus felt a pang of guilt and fear. Her father...should he tell her? He yawned, suddenly, unexpectedly. A big, jaw-cracking yawn that spoke of deep lethargy. Lily mirrored it. "Yeah, I think it's about that time," she said.

"I guess so," Marcus murmured. It could wait, he decided. At least a little bit longer. It wasn't like he was aching to tell a teenager girl he'd killed her father. No...he hadn't killed that man. The zombies did. He'd just finished the job.

"Goodnight. I'm sure we'll figure something out by morning," Lily said.

"Yeah, I hope so...goodnight."

Marcus watched her walk into the church, then began walking towards the gazebo at the back. When he got there, he found that Ed was still asleep and William was nearby. Marcus studied the gazebo. Obviously they'd expanded their living space into the exterior structure. There were two, single-wide beds, one tucked into each corner. A desk and chair occupied another corner. William was seated there, reading a bible by candlelight.

"How are you?" he asked as Marcus came in.

"Very tired," Marcus replied. The weight of the day seemed to be coming down on him, and now it was a genuine struggle to stay awake.

"I'm a night owl by nature," William said. "Not so good back before the zombie apocalypse, but now it suits me well. I take the night watch, along with, sometimes, Alan or Sam. Why don't you sleep? The temperature shouldn't drop below sixty five tonight and I'll be here, watching over the two of you," he suggested.

"That sounds like a good deal," Marcus replied. "Tell me, were there others, before now? I know about Lily's dad and brother..."

"There were twelve of us, at first," William said quietly. "Some were injured and succumbed to their wounds. Others...decided they wanted to take their chances out in the city."

"Oh...sorry," Marcus murmured.

"It's okay. Pleasant dreams."

Marcus laid down on the bed beneath the blanket after putting his revolver beneath the pillow. It was uncomfortable, but worth it. He didn't take off his shoes, wanting to be able to leap out of bed and go in two seconds flat if he had to.

Within a minute, he was asleep.


	10. Chapter 10: The Morning After

Marcus awoke the next day to the sight of early morning sunshine streaming in through the gazebo. He stared up at the weathered, paint-chipped ceiling and felt surprisingly good. When he'd gone to sleep, Marcus had been utterly convinced that his head would be full of nightmares, his sleep as harrowing as his escape from Mount Tanner. But if he'd had any, he didn't remember them, and there were no lingering negative emotions like when he usually had a particularly bad one. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he'd say he felt...

Good.

Why good? He'd just stumbled into a world that had gone to hell in a handcart, a world overrun by the walking dead. Maybe he was in shock. Or maybe it was the fact that he'd woke up a few times during the night, and all he could remember was the soft luminescence of starlight and the flickering light of a candle, and the calming, benevolent presence of Pastor William. Marcus rolled over in his bed, fully expecting the chair where the man had sat all night to be empty, but it was not. William still sat with his feet propped up on the desk.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked without turning around.

Slightly startled, Marcus sat up. "Uh, yeah, I did. Thanks for watching over us...how's Ed?" he asked, looking over.

"His fever is worse, I'm afraid," Will replied unhappily, closing the bible with a snap and getting to his feet. "I've been giving him water and checking his wound periodically. The bleeding has stopped but...I'm afraid we're going to need some kind of antibiotics."

"Wonderful," Marcus muttered, standing up.

He stretched and popped his neck and shoulders, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He felt a desperate need to piss. He grabbed the revolver and tucked it into his waistband, then eyed his backpack, which he'd shrugged out of and dropped beside his bed without realizing it last night. He pulled it back on.

"Have the others come by to say anything?" Marcus asked.

"No," Will replied. "Should they have?"

"I'm surprised Alan didn't show up in the middle of the night and carry us out beyond the wall," Marcus said.

"I wouldn't let that happen. This is my church, in as much as it's anyone's, and I won't let you be thrown out," William replied.

"Thank you. Really, you're very kind, William."

"It comes with the territory. Also, I prefer Will."

"Got it. I'm going to go find breakfast and see about finding some more medicine for Ed."

"Good luck."

Marcus left the gazebo and went into the church through the back way. He found Maya, Sam and Lily eating breakfast in the kitchen. All of them were eating from cans and drinking from bottles of water. At that thought, Marcus stopped and shrugged out of his backpack.

"Hey," he said, "I've got some stuff to contribute."

"Whatcha got?" Lily replied.

Marcus set out the bottle of Advil he'd picked up at the camp sites, as well as the five bottles of water. He kept one of them for himself. "Ed's got some, too, in his pack."

"Great! Also, I had an idea last night, about the meds," Lily said, setting aside her breakfast for the moment to sort the supplies.

"That's great, but I need a moment to take a leak or I'm going to piss my pants. Does the bathroom still work?"

"For toilet stuff, yeah. For everything else, no. We can't shower or drink from faucets since the water isn't being filtered anymore. There's some Listerine in there if you want to practice oral hygiene. We found like a crate's worth," Lily said.

"All right, thanks."

Marcus moved through the back bedroom, finding it empty. He wondered where Alan was. Probably on the watchtower already. He seemed the early bird type. Marcus stepped into the tiny bathroom and wondered how a man could live here like this. He wondered if Pastor Will _had_ lived here before the chaos. It wasn't impossible. Marcus relieved himself and flushed, frowning at the ugly color of the water, and added that to a checklist of problems that was quickly growing. Any perishable foods would be spoiled by now because there was no power left, except for generators. Same for water. If he wanted to drink, it'd have to be from bottles or boiled.

As he washed his mouth out, he glanced at the shower. No showers, no baths...unless they wanted to boil water for that, too. Which really sucked. After spitting out the Listerine, Marcus made a mental note to find some deodorant and then stepped back out into the bedroom. He passed Will on the way in, wished the man good morning, then closed the door to the bedroom behind him. Sam and Maya were gone, and Lily looked eager.

"Come on, I'll explain my plan," she said, motioning to the door that led to the main room. Marcus followed her, grabbing a bottle of water and, after a moment's selection, a can of corned beef hash. It wouldn't taste as good raw, but it was better than nothing. As it was, he was starving. Marcus came into the main room and saw that everyone but Ed and Will was waiting for him. He sat down on one of the chairs along the wall and proceeded to eat breakfast.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked.

"It's bullshit, is what it is," Alan muttered.

"It's a good plan," Lily said firmly. "We don't have a proper hospital or even a clinic in Spencer's Mill. That's over in Fairfield or Marshall."

"Fairfield doesn't have a hospital," Alan cut in.

Lily sighed. "What _ever,_ that's not my point. My point is that we _do_ have a vet's office. And the antibiotics used on people and dogs are the same thing. Marcus, you, Sam and Alan should head down to the vet's office. It's a little past the edge of town, they know where it is. You grab whatever you can in terms of meds and come back. In the meantime, I'll get on the radio and track down Doctor Hanson so he can swing by and look at Ed."

"And who's gonna watch the fort while we're gone, huh?" Alan asked suddenly. "Obviously Will ain't gonna do it, he's asleep. The new kid can't, he's dying. What about you, Lily? You really going to grab a rifle and climb into the watchtower?"

"I'll do it," Maya said. "I'm in the army. I can handle guard duty."

"That shut you right the hell up," Sam said with a grin after Alan didn't respond.

"Thank you, Maya," Marcus said.

"Whatever, I'll be waiting by the gate. Don't make me wait too long," Alan said, then stomped out of the room.

Sam sighed. "I'll go make sure he doesn't leave without us. He's dumb like that," she said, and left.

"And _I've_ got to visit the ladies room," Lily said. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Marcus watched her go, then sighed as he walked over to the communal supply corner. Maya joined him.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm just worried about getting kicked out. You'll be fine, you're far too valuable to turn away, no matter how stubborn or arrogant Alan is. Me and Ed on the other hand, at best, I'm neutral and Ed's a drain until he gets better. Even then...Ed's never been good with manual labor." Marcus found several boxes of bullets and began searching for the one that matched his six shooter.

"You'll want the one that says .45 on the side," Maya said, joining him. "And stop worrying. Alan and Lily may talk a tough game, but I think they really want to keep us. Lily does, she's just afraid to show it, and Alan does too, and he'll never show it. He might even go as far as to kick you two out, just to prove how tough he is. But if you give him an excuse to keep you, he'll begrudgingly fold and the issue will drop, because he's afraid of being alone just as much as we all are. And besides, I'm sure you're not totally useless. You survived last night. You're clearly brave, in shape and you can shoot a gun. That puts you head and shoulders above most civilians."

"Thanks," Marcus said, hesitating slightly, wondering why Maya was being nice all of a sudden. Maybe last night's experience and the realization that they were now living in a post-apocalyptic valley had rattled her more than she cared to admit.

Marcus couldn't find the .45s and wondered if they had any. He finally sighed and pulled out his gun. He unloaded it, set it in the gun locker and put all the spare bullets into an empty can of what had once been beans. Spying a marker for likely just such an occasion, he wrote **.45** on the side, then looked through the remaining arsenal.

There wasn't much.

"Not your type of gun, huh?" Maya asked.

"No, not really," Marcus replied. There were a pair of hunting rifles, a shotgun and two pistols. Not bad, considering. He grabbed a black pistol and spied a pair of magazines next to it. He loaded the pistol and pocketed the second magazine.

"That's an M9," Maya said. "Standard issue for the military. It's a good gun." She grabbed one of the rifles and a magazine for it. "Come on, I imagine Alan and Sam aren't the patient type."

Marcus nodded and prepared to leave, then suddenly realized he'd lost track of his melee weapon somewhere during the chaos. Frowning, he thought about it for a moment, and realized it must be back near the bed. He hurried through the church, came out the back and went to the gazebo. Ed was still asleep in the bed, sweating badly, not looking good at all. Marcus spied his crowbar lying on the wooden floor next to his bed. He retrieved it and stopped, standing over Ed. Maya would be watching over him...but she'd also be watching over the entire compound. Lily would be there, too, and Will would technically be on site...

He didn't want to leave his friend unguarded and sick and passed out, but he didn't have a choice. Sighing quietly, he left the gazebo. He'd have to go fast, get this stuff and get back quick. Only...what if someone else had had this idea? What if someone else had already raided the vet's office? It didn't matter, he needed to go there anyway.

"You coming?" Alan asked petulantly as he approached the gate.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Marcus replied. He'd put up with asshole managers in his office job before this. He figured he could probably handle a cranky old park ranger.

"Let's go, then," Sam said, opening the gate and stepping out through it.

Marcus followed her and Alan into the unknown of Spencer's Mill.


	11. Chapter 11: Spencer's Mill Vet Clinic

In the warm, sane light of day, the city of Spencer's Mill looked significantly less threatening. Unfortunately, it was also that much easier to see all the damage and decay. Marcus followed Alan and Sam down a dirt road leading away from the church. The same road he, Ed and Maya had driven up last night.

"Why aren't we driving?" he asked.

"Because only a dumbass drives around a city full of these things," Alan replied.

"What Alan is trying to say is that cars make noise, and the zeds _like_ noise, so we don't want to attract any extra attention," Sam replied. "Not to mention that cars aren't exactly a renewable resources and we only have so many of them."

"Keep it down," Alan hissed.

Sam sighed, but quieted down. Marcus tried to keep a watchful eye on his surroundings as they continued along the dirt road. Either side of the path was overgrown with trees and shrubs, though it extended into a forest to the right. To the left were a few houses down a short incline. If he focused, Marcus could see some broken out windows, the occasional dead body, random debris dropped on the ground in the chaos that must have consumed the town. He didn't focus too hard. If he did, it began to make him sick.

He turned his thoughts to his new roommates...or landlords...or whatever the hell they were. Alan, he didn't trust. Besides the man's abrasive attitude and just the general fact that he was clearly a jerk, there was something there a little deeper. Something that set Marcus on edge. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it frightened him. Sam, on the other hand, seemed more straightforward. He got the feeling that being in a bad mood and short with people was just her way of dealing with the zombie apocalypse.

They reached the end of the dirt road. The road split. Left led further into the residential area (of which most of the town seemed to be), and straight led past a pair of houses, one of which had clearly still been under construction when the zombies hit. It was nothing more than a skeletal woodworking of a house.

Alan and Sam led him on dead ahead. Marcus heard a low groan come from somewhere nearby and both of them froze. He did, too, waiting. Some rustling came from the right. Marcus gripped his crowbar, waiting. A mass of bushes shifted, and then the zombie seemed to be birthed from it. Alan didn't wait for it to come to them. He rushed over to it and cracked its skull with the large red wrench he was carrying in one sure, swift hit.

"Come on," he said as the body dropped.

They kept going, straight down the outer road.

Now, he found his thoughts drifting towards the scope of the outbreak. It seemed likely that the entirety of Trumbull Valley was infected with these things. But how far did this outbreak extend? The state? The country? The whole world? Were they living in a genuine zombie apocalypse? The thought chilled him. Things that mattered more than practically anything a month ago now didn't mean shit. Bills to pay? Who cares, there's zombies outside. Don't have a job? Who cares, there's zombies walking around outside!

Survival mattered now. Resources, friendships, a place to live and defend yourself from the hordes. Marcus suddenly found himself incredibly grateful that he had no known medical conditions and didn't need glasses. He was fairly smart, fit and at least somewhat brave. He could shoot a gun, he could fight if he really had to. He was pretty well-suited to survive in this horrifying new world. But that meant a lot of people weren't.

The road they were on came to an end. To the right was the road that would ultimately terminate at Mount Tanner. They broke left, passing another house, a low row of storage units, a restaurant and a post office. Alan and Sam hadn't said a word the whole time and so far, any zombies in the area were keeping their distance. Marcus kept thinking about that last part. How many people were dead? If this was widespread, how many people?

Were his parents still alive? In a way, he was also glad that he and Ed had no pets. Marcus had no siblings, nor any aunts or uncles, just his parents. They were like him: fit, active, capable. His father was an outdoorsman, at least to a certain degree. He imagined his parents would have taken off to the family cabin they'd bought, it was out in the woods about thirty miles outside of town. They could last for a while out there.

Marcus stopped this train of thought. He didn't necessarily like it. How long was long enough? How long would this whole thing last? They came to a diner with broken out windows to their left and the pair led Marcus across the abandoned parking lot, stepping over bodies and broken glass. As they reached the edge of the lot, they paused.

"It's there," Alan said.

Up ahead was a wrecked, flipped-over camper. But beyond that, further down the road, he could see a structure. The vet clinic.

"So what's the plan?" Marcus asked.

"We get in, we clear the place out, you watch our asses while we search for any and all meds, then we get out," Alan replied tersely.

"Sounds like fun," Marcus muttered.

"It's not supposed to be fun!" he snapped.

"Shut _up,_ " Sam whispered harshly. "There don't seem to be that many of them around, so let's go," she said.

The trio started up again. They jogged across the street, around the ruined camper and into the parking lot of the building. As they began moving across the blacktop, a sudden chorus of zombie voices, groans and moans and the occasional muttered semi-phrase, came to them.

"Freeze!" Alan hissed.

Marcus looked around frantically and finally spied another group of zombies, maybe twelve or fifteen of them, coming at them from further down the road, past the vet clinic. Following Alan's quick hand commands, they ducked down low and moved over to the only car left parked in the lot. There they sat, squatted on their haunches, for several minutes as the voices grew louder. They kept getting louder until they were practically right next to them. Then the voices receded until they were almost gone. Marcus let out a long sigh.

"Come on," Alan muttered.

"Why do they do that?" Marcus asked as they crossed the cracked blacktop parking lot. "Group together like that?"

"I don't know, but we've been seeing it more lately," Sam replied.

"Be quiet!" Alan growled.

They reached the front door to the clinic. Marcus tried the knob and found it unlocked. He pushed the door open, staring into the clinic's dim lobby. The only light came from the morning sun through the stained, cracked front windows. Marcus moved deeper into the building, crowbar at ready, but he heard nothing.

The building didn't seem to be very large. There was just a single door at the back. Marcus moved through it, coming into an examination room that doubled as a kennel. He stopped as a reek of dead, rotting flesh came to him. The light was even worse here, because there weren't many windows. He looked across the floor.

"Oh, god," he moaned sickly.

"Jesus," Sam whispered from behind him.

The bloody, gory remains of several dogs, maybe a dozen, were scattered across the cement floor. It looked like the zombies had been feasting here. Marcus felt sick to his stomach. He took a step to the side and tried to breathe through his mouth. Forcing himself to focus, he turned and looked through another open door. It led to an exam room that seemed to double as a supply area. There was nothing waiting inside. He cleared the last room, an office, and then hurried back to the lobby area, his breakfast threatening to come up.

"Building's clear," he managed to say to Alan, who'd been watching the front.

"Watch our ass," the ranger replied, then disappeared back into the slaughterhouse.

Marcus swallowed several times, trying to get the images out of his head, and moved to the front door. He looked out through the glass and couldn't see any zombies nearby. He locked the deadbolt, hoping it would keep the zombies out if they showed up. Behind him, he heard the other two shifting around, deeper in the building.

Time passed. Seconds bled into minutes.

Marcus' pulse was slowly rising as the tension increased. He kept waiting for something to go wrong, a zombie to pop up, or a hoard of them. More time passed. He heard a distant growl. Somewhere, maybe back in the office, he heard Sam curse.

"What is it?" Alan asked.

"My rucksack is fucking falling apart at the damn seams," Sam snapped back.

"Just grab what you can, we've been here too long," Alan replied.

"No, I've got to get everything we can. We won't have an opportunity like this again."

"And we won't have _any_ opportunities if we wind up dead!"

"Goddamnit, Alan-"

Marcus turned his attention back to the front door and barely managed to muffle a startled shout. Where there had only been a vacant lot there were now five zombies, stumbling their way. Apparently they'd heard the argument.

"Uh, guys, we've got zombies," Marcus called back.

"Dammit! See, I told you, let's _go,_ Sam!" Alan yelled.

"Fuck! All right."

The pair of them returned to the lobby a moment later. Marcus nodded and got his crowbar ready. He turned the handle and pushed the door open. Or tried to. He rebounded off, cursed and then undid the deadbolt. Opening the door, he stepped out, sweeping the area with his gaze for the nearest zombie. It seemed to be about ten feet away, dead ahead and-A cold, clammy hand fell on his forearm, gripping him tightly.

He cried out, turning, and tried to get out of the grip of a man in a torn business suit with glowing yellow eyes and a wide, blood-smeared mouth that was coming for him. But the grip was like iron. Abruptly, the head snapped back and half of it vaporized. His hearing was blown out and his vision briefly, too. A gunshot, he realized after a second as he shrugged off the zombie.

"Goddamnit, Sam!" Alan roared, though he sounded faraway.

"Shut up and run!" Sam replied.

Then he was running, dodging past zombies with Sam and Alan, rushing across the parking lot. They hit the road, crossed it and had made it across the diner parking lot when Sam suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, cursing violently.

"What is it?" Marcus asked, his hearing somewhat back now.

"My fucking rucksack, it's coming apart! At this rate we'll lose half the stuff on the run home," she replied, dropping to her knees and grabbing a few errant bottles of medicine that had fallen out.

"Leave it!" Alan snapped, stopping with them but looking like he might take off at any moment.

"No, we need it!" Sam replied.

"I'll go get a car," Marcus said.

"No, it's too dangerous!" Alan said.

"Go get a car, Marcus," Sam said.

"Screw you, I'm out. You want a horde coming down on your ass, fine." Alan turned and started jogging away.

"Alan, get back here!" Sam cried.

He didn't say anything. Marcus got out his pistol.

"Stay here, I'll be right back with a car."


	12. Chapter 12: Lay of the Land

Sam was right. Alan was a jackass.

He was long gone, Sam was crouching in a street of a zombie-ridden city and Marcus was frantically looking for a car. He'd seen several, so far, but none of them looked functional. It was as he stumbled back into the parking lot of the abandoned diner that a memory that had been bugging him ever since the need for a car had arisen finally snapped into focus. The parking lot of the vet's clinic had a car that had at least looked functional. He tried to look at the vet's parking lot from where he was, but the wrecked RV blocked his view.

Sighing, frustrated, Marcus began jogging across the diner's lot. There were a few zombies to his left, on the road, but they didn't seem to have noticed him. Good, he had enough shit to put up with right now. This wasn't fair to ask of him. He'd just gotten thrown into the mix yesterday, how was all of this happening so fast? Marcus reached the street and crossed it. He prayed that there were keys still in the ignition or something because he'd never learned how to a hot-wire a car. It wasn't a skill he thought he'd need in his life.

The car came into view. It was a little blue four-door. It looked to be in good condition. Hurrying, he pounded onto the parking lot and raced around to the driver's side door. It wasn't locked. He hopped into the car and reached for the ignition. No keys. He let out a frustrated sigh and began searching, praying they were somewhere. Nothing in the passenger's seat, on the dash, the visors. Marcus sat there a moment longer, preparing to give up this car and continue his search, when an idea came to him. He hopped out of the car and began feeling up under the front left wheel well. His heart leaped as he found something: a spare key.

It was in a little magnetized box. He tossed the box away and hopped back into the car. Sticking the key in the ignition, he turned it and cried out in joy as the engine kicked to life. A quick look at the gas gauge told him he had more than enough, almost a full tank. He popped it into drive and pulled out onto the road. A moment later, he was at Sam's location. Perfect timing, he realized. Three zombies were honing in.

"Come on!" he said.

"Coming!" Sam replied.

She gathered up the remains of her rucksack and all but dove into the back seat. "Go!" she called, slamming the door shut.

Marcus hit the gas.

* * *

Their drive back to the church was uneventful. Even in his terrified state, Marcus remembered the way back. He'd always been naturally good with directions. He was sure that if there weren't zombies everywhere and they weren't drawn to noise, Sam would be screaming and ranting about Alan. Marcus didn't blame her. He felt like doing something similar. They pulled into the parking lot next to the station wagon Maya had used to rescue him and Ed last night. Was that just last night? It seemed like ages ago.

"I hope that bastard got eaten on the way home because if not I'm going to tear is fucking heart out and eat it myself," Sam snarled.

"I'll grab the knife and fork," Marcus replied.

Sam looked at him as they climbed out of the car, then she laughed. "You know, you might not be so bad after all."

"Gee, thanks," Marcus replied, then laughed.

"Come on. Let's go tear Alan a new one."

Marcus filled his pockets with the runoffs from Sam's ragged rucksack and pocketed the key, as well. He opened the gate for her and stepped out of the way. She scanned the courtyard, hunting for Alan. He wasn't anywhere around. Marcus wondered if something really _had_ happened to him on the way home. Then they heard his voice wafting out of the church and Sam kicked it into overdrive, stalking across the dirt and marching up the front stoop. Marcus hurried after her, eager to see the reckoning that was to come.

Sam threw the door open and Marcus went in right behind her.

"What the _fuck_ was that, Alan!?" Sam screamed.

Alan was standing by Lily's radio table, probably complaining. Both of them whipped around at the sound of Sam's voice.

"Keep your goddamned voice down!" Alan snapped.

"No, fuck that! You left me and Marcus there in the middle of the fucking street! We could have _died,_ Alan, and then what would you do? There's barely enough of us here as it is!" Sam snarled. Alan opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off again. "No, you know what, Alan, there's nothing you can fucking say to justify this shit." She turned to face Lily, reached into her pocket. "Here, Lily. I found some of that cyclophosphamide, but I couldn't find anything of that metho-stuff. I'm sorry, but we kind of ran out of time."

"It's okay. Thank you, Sam. Really," Lily replied, accepting the medicine.

Sam glared at Alan, then turned and marched over to the general supply cabinet. She began putting stuff away. Alan stared after her, his mouth tight, eyes narrow, looking like he wanted to say something. Instead, he turned and left the room in a huff. Marcus crossed to stand by Lily at her radio station, where she had settled back into her chair.

"Are you sick?" he asked.

"Yeah...well, sort of," Lily replied. "I've got a condition. Lupus. It's chronic, no cure. Without medication, I die in a few months."

"Oh...god, I'm sorry," Marcus murmured, horrified by the idea of being trapped in a world where everything had broken down and you couldn't get what you needed to simply stay alive. Lily just shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah, me too. I've got a little stockpile of the stuff I need and the condition isn't as bad as it used to be. I've gone into remission just lately, so, who knows, maybe I'll get lucky. As it is, with what Sam found and what I have leftover, I should have enough to keep me going for another month. And I'm sure we can find more _somewhere_ in this damned city."

Sam slammed the door to the medical supply cabinet and turned to face them. "I'm going to go lay down for a little bit, so I don't stroke out or snap Alan's neck."

"Okay, we'll call you if we need you," Lily replied.

Sam began to march out of the room, then hesitated. "Thanks, Marcus. You saved my ass out there. I'll return the favor some time."

She left the room. "Wow, I'm impressed," Lily said. "She warmed up to you within twenty four hours. It took her a bit longer to be nice to me, and she's still arguing with Pastor Will...and Alan, obviously, but that's no surprise. I'm sure we'll all be fighting with that jackass until the end of days. So, it sounds like you did well out there."

"Yeah, I guess so. I can't help but feel like I got lucky." Marcus found his attention drawn to a map of Spencer's Mill pinned to the wall above Lily's desk. It was covered in markings from a black marker, as well as thumbtacks with yarn going away from them, leading to pieces of paper with writing on them. He found the church, and saw that several of the houses around the church were marked out with big, black Xs.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"That...is the lay of the land. It's a very up-to-date map of the town. Released about a month ago by our resident welcoming party. Mrs. Tomlinson. One of those Tupperware party, keeping up appearances soccer moms who had to be in everyones' business..." she trailed off, then laughed a little. "Listen to me, I sound like a bitch. She was nice, just...nosy, and a bit pompous. She would make these 'welcome to the town' baskets, with like cheeses and hams and gift cards and these maps. She made sure to update them like three or four times a year. She got really good at them. Who knew they'd be so damned useful?" Lily replied.

"So these Xs..." Marcus asked.

"Houses we've checked and cleaned out. There's nothing left in them," Lily replied.

"Huh. Smart. And these?" he asked, trailing the yarn with the tip of his finger.

"Special notes, extra information. Two of those are for enclaves I've discovered. The others are basically notes indicating that we should really, really check out this building or that building. One of them is a gun shop, another is a gas station, a convenience store. There's probably not much left by now, but..." she shrugged, "you never know. I've been in the process of putting together a to-do list, but it just seems so...overwhelming, I guess." She shook her head. "I feel like there's so much more we could be doing, but it's a struggle just to stay _alive,_ you know? God, I'm glad we found you and Maya...and Ed."

"Thanks," Marcus replied.

"Yeah. Look, I'm going to need your help, there's a lot to do," Lily said.

"I'm your man. I've got energy, I've had breakfast, what do you need done?"

"Something not happy, but Maya's already agreed to help you. If you haven't noticed, space is kind of at a premium around here. We need more room because, ultimately, it's my plan to have more people here. Not only can't we keep going like this before something tragic happens, like someone falls asleep on night watch or there's not enough of us here when a horde shows up, but there are people out there, terrified, alone, starving. It'd be mutually beneficial," Lily said.

"Hey, you're preaching to the choir here. I'm all for finding more people to help out around here and to keep safe," Marcus replied.

Lily laughed. "I'm sorry, Alan is just such a hard sell. He doesn't trust anyone, thinks there's nothing but looters and murderers beyond our hallowed walls...it's a bunch of BS. Yeah, I'm not an idiot, I know there's jerks out there, like those Wilkerson boys..." she sighed. "I'll tell you about them later. But anyway, this place has a basement. Cleaning it out would help us two-fold. Pastor Will said there's a big canvas tent down there that we could set up. It would serve as a makeshift room for something else, out in the courtyard, and if we had a cleaned out, safe basement we could use _that_ as a room for something as well."

"So I have to go down into the horrible basement and catalog and clean?" Marcus asked.

Lily smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry."

Marcus sighed. "Okay, that's fair enough, I guess. Any luck with that doctor?"

"No, nothing yet. I'm still looking. Sorry."

"That's fine, I think they found something Neosporin and Amoxicillin. I'm going to go give them to Ed and then I'll get to work."

"Thanks."

Marcus headed over to the medicine cabinet. He put what was in his pockets in the cabinet, then fished out the Neosporin tube and bottle of Amoxicillin. Making his way back through the church, he stepped outside, back into the sunshine. There was no one with Ed, which initially made him angry, then he told himself to calm down. There weren't many people here. Ed was still asleep. He'd kicked his blanket off and he was shivering and sweaty.

"Damn," Marcus whispered.

He ran back inside and grabbed a bottle of water, then came back out and woke up Ed.

"What's...what's going on?" he asked.

"Everything's fine. I managed to find some meds," Marcus replied. "I need to check your dressing, give you some pills. Here, sit up."

"Ugh, god..." Ed moaned, slowly sitting up. "Head's killing me, burning up," he groaned.

"I know, bud. Here, take some," Marcus said, rattling out a few pills into his hand and passing them and the bottle of water to him. "Drink that whole thing, if you can, you need to stay hydrated," he said.

While Ed did this, Marcus checked for more gauze and tape. He managed to find some in the desk where Pastor Will had sat up all night, then sat down next to Ed and carefully peeled away his bandage. The wound looked ugly, but he couldn't tell how bad it was. All he knew was that Ed had an infection, because of the fever.

"Careful," Ed said.

"I know, sorry, just...hold still," Marcus replied.

He ended up using most of the tube of Neosporin, then folded a new pad of gauze, placed it over the wound and taped it into place. Ed hissed and flinched, but otherwise kept quiet. Marcus just wished he had something more powerful. After replacing the bandage, he made Ed finish the bottle of water, then laid him back down.

"Here," he said, placing the blanket back on him.

"This sucks," Ed muttered, shivering. "My head is melting and my arms are freaking freezing. Ugh, where's that doctor?" he groaned.

"We're looking for him. Where's your gun?"

"Under the pillow. Don't worry."

"Okay...I'm going into the basement and do some spring cleaning. I'll come up to check on you from time to time. Shout if you see any undead jerks climbing over the wall."

"I'll do more than shout," Ed replied.

Marcus laughed. "Come on, Ed, you can't shoot for shit."

"Hey, that's total BS. I can shoot."

"Maybe if you weren't sick as hell."

Ed laughed, then groaned. "Go on, I need a nap."

"Okay. I'll bring you some food too, soon."

"No, no food. My stomach feels like crap."

"No arguing. You need to eat. Go back to sleep."

Ed mumbled something and turned over, away from him. He made his way over to the church and began circling it until he found the tornado-shelter style doors built into the ground at the back of the building, same side as the back door. They weren't locked. He sighed, staring at them. This wasn't going to be fun.

He heard footsteps behind him.

Turning, he spied Maya. She was carrying work gloves and a pair of lanterns. "Hey, here to help?" he asked.

"Yeah. While you were out playing in the city, I checked over their defenses. There's gaps in the barbed wire and their watchtower is crap. I hope to find some spare parts down there. Come on, let's get to work," she said, pulling on her gloves.

She walked over to the cellar doors, grabbed them and pulled them open. Maya flipped on the lantern and made her way down into the darkness. Reluctantly, Marcus pulled on his gloves, activated his lantern and followed.


	13. Chapter 13: Lily's Brother

The basement was a real nightmare.

Marcus had always had a thing about basements. Especially dark, decrepit, unfinished ones, cast in dusty concrete and spiderwebs. This one had a lot of both. Well, maybe not the cracked concrete, but definitely darkness and spiderwebs. And, of course, it was summer, so the little eight-legged bastards would be in full swing. Marcus didn't have full-blown arachnophobia, but that didn't mean that he _liked_ the things.

The basement was packed full of crap and about half the size of the church above it. Along the left and right walls were pairs of slit windows, stuck high up into the ceiling. They were covered in dust on the inside, vegetative matter on the outside, so little light came in. Maya marched into the main area of the basement, a pool of space left open amidst the maze of boxes, furniture and whatever the hell else had been crammed down here.

"Damn," Maya said.

Marcus hung back at the entryway, where the light was. "Yeah," he muttered.

"We'll need more light. And help, eventually."

"What's the plan?"

"Haul all of this crap up and out, then sort through it, see what we can use, what's gotta go. We can just throw the other stuff over the side, or pile the burnable stuff in the corner of the yard for fires in the winter, if it comes to that."

"Winter? How long do you think we'll be here?" Marcus asked.

"I don't _know,_ Marcus. That's the point. We need to think ahead. Honestly, I want to do a tallied inventory of everything inside of these walls. How about you go grab another pair of lanterns? I saw two more in the supply case in the main room. And tell Lily that when Sam wakes up, we'd like her help," Maya replied.

"Okay...what about Alan?"

Maya shook her head. "No, he's got guard duty right now and besides, I don't want to be around that guy."

Marcus snorted. "Me neither. Be right back."

He hurried up out of the basement, glad for any excuse to be out of there. Unfortunately, he only managed to kill a few minutes by completing the tasks Maya had set for him before he was back down in the basement with a few more lanterns. He set one up high on a dresser and another on a desk, turned them both up high and then set to work.

Four hours came and went.

Marcus stopped about every half hour to check on Ed, but he slept through all of it. He and Maya, and after about an hour, Sam, hauled up at least half the crap that was stored down in the basement, spreading it out across the backyard. They found all sorts of stuff down there. An ancient washer and dryer pair, dressers, desks, filing cabinets, bits and pieces of several old bed frames, couches, chairs, and boxes, boxes, boxes.

There were boxes piled high and they were full of so much random junk. Some of it was kitchenware, others were packed with moldering old paperbacks, others were filled with what appeared to be totally unconnected stuff. Marcus wondered where the hell it had all come from. By the time it was two in the afternoon, he was starving and Maya finally gave in to his and Sam's requests for a break. They all trudged into the kitchen and grabbed whatever they could find. Marcus found a grab-bag of BBQ chips, a packet of tuna and crackers and a bottle of water.

They went into the main room, where Lily was still at the radio. She seemed preoccupied, hunched over the radio, talking into it.

"Come on, Jacob, answer me..." she whispered.

"You okay, Lily?" Marcus asked as he tore into his meal.

"Ugh, no, not really. My dad and brother still aren't answering me. I haven't heard from either of them in over a day now. They went to look for survivors, or, at least my dad did. Up on Mount Tanner. I don't know where Jacob went...hey, you didn't happen to see him, did you?" Lily asked.

Marcus shared an uncomfortable look with Maya. "Uh, no, we didn't see anyone up there," he murmured.

Lily began to say something, but then the radio crackled. _"Uh...Lily? I really hope you're on the radio, sis, cause I could use some help."_

Lily spun around and grabbed the radio. "Oh my _god,_ Jacob, where the _hell_ have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you for ages!"

" _I'm sorry, I was...busy. Uh, I'm in some trouble. I'm out at the Peterson Farm and I took a bad fall off a roof. I think my ankle might be twisted or something. Could you have someone come out and drive me? Maybe Sam? Not Alan, god, I don't need to hear his shit."_

"I'll do it," Marcus said, stepping forward.

Lily twisted around in her chair. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah, it should be easy. I've just got to go pick him up, right?"

"Uh...yeah. Okay, thank you, Marcus." Lily turned back to the radio. "Okay, Jacob, I've got someone coming out right now. Stay out of sight until he gets there."

" _Okay...'he' who? Is dad back? Or Wendel?"_

"No. It's someone new. Marcus. We found three new ones, and dad or the others haven't been back yet. Have you heard from them?"

" _No."_

"Okay. Be ready."

" _I will. Thanks."_

Marcus finished up his meal. "Sorry to bail on you."

"It's fine. We'll keep going. You can help when you get back," Maya replied.

"Looking forward to it," Marcus said.

* * *

Marcus made sure he had his pistol, crowbar and magazine of ammo. He was tempted to grab a second one, but there were so few that he decided against it. First, he'd taken a look at Lily's map. The way to the farm was very easy to remember. It was about a half mile outside of town. For safety, Marcus made sure to grab a spare map. Apparently, they kept a lot of them at the church. He took the car he'd taken from the vet parking lot and drove into town, making his way through the body-strewn, blood spattered streets, feeling nervous.

An incredible guilt was welling up in him. He didn't feel responsible for Lily's father's death, Thomas Ritter had been eaten by zombies, and the thing he'd murdered hadn't been a human being anymore, it had been a zombie. But he was still sitting on that information. Lily still thought her father and his friends were alive and well out there, somewhere, and it was only a matter of time before he came home.

That was why he'd leaped at the chance to rescue her brother. He knew he should tell her the truth, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. What was more interesting was that Maya hadn't said anything. She struck him as the kind of woman who cut through the bullshit and told people the truth. But she'd hesitated, too. Maybe she wasn't quite as brave as she was acting like. Although she did seem pretty tough.

As he headed out of town, the radio in his pocket that he'd practically forgotten squealed to life. _"Hey, Marcus, can you hear me?"_ It was Lily.

He reached into his pocket and fished out the radio. "Yeah."

" _Just checking. I couldn't remember if I'd given you a radio or not. I was hoping you might do me a favor when you find my brother and are driving him home safely."_

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

" _Slap him in the head for being a jackass."_

Marcus laughed. "Can do."

He pocketed the radio and kept driving.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find the farm where Jacob said he was.

It was one of a trio of farms tucked away beyond town down a very long dirt road. He only had to hit a few zombies on the way out, smashing them out of the way with the bumper, trying to bounce them off rather than make them fly up and over, or into the windshield. As he drove up on the farm, in between the main house and a barn, he spied a few zombies rushing into the open doors of the barn. Marcus hit the brakes, threw it into park and leaped up out of the car. Pulling his pistol out, he raced towards the barn.

He could hear someone fighting inside the barn. Not good. A small part of him thought he shouldn't be using the pistol if he didn't absolutely have to, but he was kind of freaking out. He stepped into the barn, pistol raised with both hands. There were around a dozen moving figures. Most of them were heading across the large, open room towards a pair of people at the back. Marcus took aim and fired. There was a loud pop and suddenly one of the zombies tripped and stumbled, crashing to the floor, never to rise again.

He aimed and fired a second time. This one went wide. Sweating, cursing, terror coursing through his veins, Marcus fired a third time. This time, there was a spray of blood and brains, a second zombie went down. He ended up using every single round in the magazine taking down not only the zombies in the barn, but a handful of others that were drawn in by the noise. He was shaking, trembling violently as he fished out the only other magazine he had and slipped it into the pistol. He was still facing the open door, waiting for more.

"Hey, man," someone said behind him. Marcus spun around, letting out a small noise of terror. "It's okay, relax. You got them."

This must be Jacob, he recognized the voice. He definitely resembled the man who had been up on Mount Tanner. He looked to be Marcus' age, wore a thin, brown coat and had longish, unkempt black hair. Another man stood beside him, a skinny, tattooed man who sported a country tan. He looked lanky in his white tanktop and baggy cargo pants. The unknown man carried a large, red pipe wrench, while Jacob, who was favoring his right leg, held onto a sturdy length of pipe. They came to stand before Marcus.

"So, you're the new guy?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah, that's me. Can we go now? I can get the both of you out of here and somewhere safe," Marcus replied, still coming down off the adrenaline high.

"Oh...I'm not going with you," the other man said, his voice thick with a southern accent.

Jacob frowned, turning towards the other man. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Eli...I told you, I'm not ashamed to be seen with you. Come on, come with me," he said, pleading. But the other man just shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Jacob. I wish I could, I just...it's not about shame, it's about Job. Do you know what he'd do if he caught us together?" he shook his head again.

"Ugh, your brother's an asshole," Jacob muttered.

"I know, but he's my brother. He's family. And I can't just up and leave them. They rely on me, I rely on them. Look, I really gotta get home." Eli looked at Marcus. "Thanks for the assist, mister, you really saved us."

"No problem," Marcus replied.

"Eli...just...be careful, please," Jacob replied, letting his hand fall away from Eli's shoulder.

Eli chuckled and grinned a goofy, lopsided grin. "Careful? What have I got to worry about? I'm young, badass and carry a big-ass wrench."

Jacob laughed and shook his head. He gave the other man a hug. "We'll draw the zeds off, okay?" he asked.

"Thanks."

Jacob looked at Marcus. "Come on, let's get back before my sister has a heart attack or something." He began walking out of the barn.

Marcus followed him. They made sure the area was clear, then climbed into the car.

"How should we draw them off?" Marcus asked.

"Drive about a hundred feet down the road," Jacob replied, reaching into his pocket for something. Marcus did as asked. When he was in position, Jacob finally pulled out what he was looking for: a lighter and a pack of blackcat firecrackers.

"This is great for distracting the idiots," he said, rolling down the window and leaning out it. He lit the pack and hurled it a good distance away, into a field. As it started going off, Eli ran out of the barn, in the other direction.

"Okay, we're good," Jacob said.

Marcus hit the gas. He navigated the dirt roads and began to head back into town. "So, you're Lily's brother?" he asked.

"Yeah. Jacob Ritter at your service."

"What were you doing out there?"

"Just...spending some time with a friend," Jacob replied.

"Wait, are you actually telling me that you twisted your ankle while sneaking out to be with your boyfriend during the zombie apocalypse?" Marcus asked.

"Hey, now wait a damned minute-" Jacob began.

"Jacob, relax. I'm a black guy who grew up in the south. I know all about getting hated on for something you can't control. I won't give you shit for being gay. I _am,_ however, going to give you shit for being an idiot. Which reminds me..." he reached out and slapped Jacob on the back of the head.

"What...what was that for?!" Jacob cried.

"From your sister. She's blind pissed at you, man."

Jacob chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "Okay, I guess I earned it. I just...it's so hard to see Eli. His asshole brothers don't want us together, even with everything that's been going on. I've been under a lot of stress lately and I need a break. So sue me."

"Uh-huh," Marcus murmured.

"So where did you come from?"

"Me and my friend have been camping this whole time up on Mount Tanner. We kind of just stumbled into this mess last night. Lily offered us, and this other woman we found, shelter. My friend, Ed, is hurt kind of bad, and we're looking for a doctor."

"That'll be Doc Hanson," Jacob said. "Hopefully we can track him down."

"Yeah, hopefully."

They drove on.

* * *

When they got back, Lily was less than thrilled.

"What were you thinking, you idiot!? I _told you_ that no one was supposed to go out by themselves!" she demanded as soon as they had walked into the main room.

"Lily...just stop," Jacob said, leaning against the nearest wall, still favoring his right leg. "You aren't mom, don't try to be...and besides..." he hesitated. "I wasn't alone."

Lily groaned, closing her eyes, reaching up and rubbing the bridge of her nose. " _Tell_ me you weren't with Eli Wilkerson again."

"Lily-"

"No, Jacob! You _know_ what his family is like! I don't trust them, not one bit."

"Lily, Eli is _not_ his family," Jacob said firmly, fully standing up.

Marcus stood well back, waiting for all of this to play out. Lily looked ready to continue the argument, but maybe it was something she saw in Jacob's eyes or maybe it was just that she finally had noticed his injury, but she crossed the room and wrapped him in a hug.

"Just...please don't do stupid things like that. I just got you back and now I can't find dad...I don't want to lose you again," she said.

"Okay, okay, fine. Now let me go wrap my damned ankle. It's not broken, I've decided that much. I just need a day's rest or so. Maybe I can go keep the new guy company," Jacob replied, then limped off out of the room.

Lily turned and stared at Marcus. "Thank you. Really. I appreciate it," she said.

"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help. Now, I'm going to go check on Ed, get him something to eat and then help the others with the basement," Marcus replied.


	14. Chapter 14: Second Night

The day continued on in a similar fashion.

Marcus went back down into the basement. He found Maya and Sam still hard at work. After another two hours of hard labor, hauling up most of the rest of the stuff down there, Sam had to go take over watchtower duty, since Alan was finished. While they worked, Marcus and Maya talked, and Marcus got a better idea of the soldier.

"After Afghanistan, everything was a little...different," Maya said. They'd been talking about their hometowns, families, friends.

"What do you mean?" Marcus asked, carefully grabbing one side of a particularly large and heavy box that would require both of them to move.

"It was my first deployment. I spent a lot of time out in one of the bigger cities. Legally, they needed female troops to search female civilians. I did that a lot. I got into a few firefights. Saw some of my friends from basic die, another few of them lose limbs from IEDs."

"IEDS?"

"Improvised explosive device. It's nuts what those assholes come up with. I was there for six months before I got rotated out. First back stateside for another six months, then the past year in Iraq. A lot quieter, since the war's finished there and the terrorist cells have largely moved on. I got promoted this last year. Corporal. But about things changing...I tried to go back home, to KC, but...I don't know." She shrugged.

They brought the box up, set it with the others, then began heading back down into the basement. Marcus took a look at the sky. It was sometime around six PM, they'd have several more hours of light. He was getting hungry, but he reveled in the fact that they were going to be done very soon. Only a few more boxes and a big dresser.

"It just wasn't the same. It was too...hectic. I was paranoid, all the time. Always looking over my shoulder. You get that way when you're in a warzone. It doesn't just...turn off, when you go back home. My mom talked me into therapy for a little while, but it wasn't helping. I guess it'll serve me well now, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah...I guess so," Marcus murmured. "So you were up here hunting?" he asked.

"Yeah, with Colton and Strand. They were my friends. We'd spent a lot of time together. They were certainly best friends. I kind of wanted just Colton to come along. You know, just the two of us. We've always been close, ever since we met, but nothing like that. I kind of wanted more, he was a good guy and he got me. But he was also kind of dense. I mean, I thought he'd leap at the chance to be alone with a girl in the woods where anything could happen...but he mentioned it to Strand, who just had to come along." She shook her head. "I guess I should have been more direct, but I was kind of scared of fucking up the friendship. I wanted it to be more natural..." She paused again. "I'm not, like, freaking you out or anything by telling you all this am I?"

"Oh...no, not at all," Marcus replied, grabbing another box.

"Good. I'm kind of blunt. I say what's on my mind. I usually don't beat around the bush. It turns a lot of people off, I guess," Maya said, also grabbing a box.

They carried both boxes upstairs, dropped them off and came back down.

"I think this new world of zombies and lawlessness is going to require a lot of blunt, decisive conversation," Marcus replied.

Maya laughed. "Well, I guess I'm pretty well suited to it. No friends left, no family within five hundred miles, I can run and gun...okay, it looks like it's just this dresser," she said.

"Great, I can't wait to be out of this damned place. I've found and killed probably like fifty spiders so far."

"Arachnophobe?"

"No, not really. I just don't like them. They're ugly and dangerous."

"Not most of them. Come on, help me get this."

Marcus knelt, grabbed the base of the dresser and lifted with Maya. They carefully maneuvered the dresser up the stairs and set it down next to the massive pile of other stuff. Marcus let out an explosive breath and sat down on a desk.

"And I'm done for the day," he said.

"Oh no you aren't," Maya replied. "We've still got to go down there and sweep, clean those windows, mop up."

"Oh, come on..." Marcus moaned.

"God, where's your work ethic?" she asked, though there was no malice in her voice, just a sort of playfulness.

"Dead and buried in that basement," Marcus replied.

Maya laughed. "Fine. Let's get dinner and then you can help me finish up down there. We need to make it into a workable living environment."

"What are you thinking about putting in down there?"

"I don't know. If we can clean it up enough, maybe the infirmary. It'd be safer, at least, hopefully cleaner," Maya replied. "Come on."

They stood and made their way back into the church. Alan stood in the kitchen, leaning up against the cabinets, eating a can of beans.

"Hey, Maya," he said, and Marcus noted an unusual amount of interest in his voice. "How's the project going down there?"

"Fine," Maya replied curtly, raiding the cabinets for food. Marcus joined her. An uncomfortable silence settled over the kitchen.

"Well, thanks. It's nice to have someone around here who actually does something for once," Alan said.

Maya made a non-committal grunt. She grabbed a bottle of water and a can of something and headed into the main room. Marcus looked through the cans for a little while before grabbing a can of corn, a bottle of water and a bag of Funyuns. He followed Maya out and found her, Pastor Will and Lily eating dinner in the main room. They all sat on foldout chairs. Marcus found one, collapsed into it and started eating.

"We're done moving all the crap out of there," Maya said.

"Wow, really?" Lily asked. "Holy crap, you guys work fast."

"Benefit of a military lifestyle," Maya replied.

"Not to mention trying to keep busy to block out the fact that civilization has fallen and zombies are all over the place," Marcus replied.

"I've often found that prayer helps with that, too," Will said.

Silence fell over the room. Marcus got another few spoonfuls of corn in his mouth, frowning at the taste but making himself eat it anyway, before Maya spoke up.

"We found some good supplies down in the basement," she said. "That big canvas tent, another bunk bed setup. Also a pair of big dry erase boards that I think would be very useful."

"Useful like how?" Will asked.

"You guys have done a great job running this place, but...we need some more discipline if we're going to make it for a longer haul. We need a list of stuff that needs to be done, we need organization, more people, more supplies, to figure out who is good at what, a schedule of who sleeps when and who gets on the watchtower for how long, a full inventory of how much food and water we have, how many bullets, how many guns and which ones are in good shape, which ones are in bad shape. We need to know who's still alive in this town, in the valley, what their intentions are, their skills, if we want them with us or if we want them to stay away," Maya said, her voice becoming sharper and more decisive as she continued.

"Well...I can't argue with that," Lily murmured.

"Me neither," Will said.

"I can," Alan said. They all glanced over. He stood in the doorway.

"What a surprise," Marcus muttered.

"I'm the one who's held this place together. I'm the one with experience. I'm the only real law enforcement official left on duty in this town. I had fifteen years on the beat. And you guys just show up out of nowhere and think you can take over," Alan said.

"Oh give it a _rest,_ Alan!" Lily cried suddenly, standing up. "Fifteen years on the beat my _ass!_ Law enforcement official? You're a goddamned park ranger! You failed out of the police academy, what does _that_ say about your leadership skills, Ranger Gunderson?"

"You'd all be _dead_ if it wasn't for me!" Alan snarled.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean we should just bow down and listen to everything you say, Alan. You don't want to advance, Alan, you just want to maintain the status quo. We can't maintain it forever!" Lily yelled.

"Okay!" Maya said, stepping forward. "Alan, you've apparently done a good job up until now, but if we're talking about rank, my authority supersedes yours. A Corporal in the United States Army overrides a park ranger." She looked at the others. "But I'm not going to make the argument that you should all listen to me because I'm military. I'm going to make the argument that you should listen to me because I've been trained to handle disasters, I'm level-headed and I know what I'm talking about. If your goal is survival, you should listen to me."

Another silence fell over the main room.

"I'm with Maya," Marcus said. "And my vote counts for Ed, too."

"Me too," Lily said.

"I don't like conflict but...Maya does make sense," Will said tentatively.

"So, what, you all just expect me to roll over and do whatever she says?" Alan asked.

"No," Maya replied. "I'm not looking to be a team leader here, not really. If anyone has advice, I want to hear it. But your plans...aren't working. You would have turned us away, and Marcus and I are clearly valuable assets to the continued survival of the community. We're both fit, we can shoot, we're brave. Sure, Ed is sick and immobile, but the two of us more than make up for that, and it's not a permanent thing. Ed will get better. That's one mistake. Then you _abandoned_ Sam and Marcus in the field, that is a _huge_ no go. You do _not_ abandon your allies."

"They wanted to get a damned car!"

"So that they didn't have to abandon half the meds!" Maya yelled. "I don't know if you've noticed, but meds are in scarce supply! A little risk of drawing some unwanted attention is _worth_ those meds! Not to mention, as I understand it, Lily _needs_ some of those meds. So, not only were you willing to risk Marcus' and Sam's lives, you were willing to risk Lily's _and your own._ What if you had run into a pack? What if they did? Logically, you'd have the largest chance to stay alive together, car or no. So I'm calling your decision-making and leadership skills into question, Alan."

Alan stared around the room at the others, looking defensive and pissed off. Marcus was surprised his head hadn't blown up or something. He had an idea that nobody had straight-up yelled at him like this for decades, maybe longer.

"Fine," he said suddenly. "Do whatever you want. I'm going on watchtower duty."

He stomped out of the room.

"Wow," Lily said after a long moment. "I didn't think anyone had the guts to do that."

"It needed to be done," Maya replied. "So, white boards? Chores? Schedule?"

"I think it sounds like a great idea," Lily said. "We can set them up over there," she pointed to the wall behind where the preacher's podium was.

"Great. We'll establish a routine schedule on one, a big list of chores on the other. Also..." Maya walked over to the map Lily had established. "We should re-check these houses that have been marked off. I imagine the scavenging runs so far have been reduced to the basics: food, water, meds, guns. But we'll need other things. Gasoline, tools, tents, spare lumber, building materials, spare parts for cars, guns, structures."

"Sounds like fun," Marcus said.

"It won't be so bad," Maya replied. "Now, finish up. We've still got a few hours of light left. We need to finish getting that basement cleaned up. We'll need a mop and bucket, broom, a lot of bleach if we can find it."

"I can help," Will said. "I've had my rest, it'd be nice to get some exercise, wake myself up. And I know where all that stuff is...by the way, what are we planning on doing with the basement?"

"I want to turn it into an infirmary and maybe a storage area. We also found that big canvas tent you mentioned. I want to get that set up. We can use it as an extra bedroom. Which reminds me. Lily, I'd like a list of everyone you know who is alive and kicking in this valley and whether or not they should be rooming with us."

"Okay, I can do that," Lily replied, heading back to her desk.

"Let's get to work."


	15. Chapter 15: The Wilkersons

Marcus woke up the second morning feeling good.

The final hours of the previous night had been filled with sweeping and mopping up the basement. It wasn't exactly the great cleaning crusade that Maya had envisioned, mainly because Marcus was really reaching his limits of exhaustion, and Pastor Will was, well, getting old and had a bum leg. On top of that, they had to set up the other bunk beds. They realized that there was no way it'd fit in anywhere but the main room so, for now, they put it there. Jacob and Lily opted to sleep there, presumably to relive long lost days when they were very young. Something made Marcus want to sleep indoors that night, he wasn't sure what, but he acted on it and did so.

It turned out that Alan snored and Sam muttered in her sleep, but except for a few instances of waking up, Marcus slept soundly. As he rolled out of bed, he found himself thinking about a short conversation he and Maya had had last night.

"How you doing?" she'd asked.

"Exhausted," he had said.

"Yeah, but you're satisfied."

"...how can you tell?"

"I know that look. That old saying about a hard day's labor is it's own reward? It isn't bullshit, you know. You can now look at that basement and say, 'I did that'. People are infinitely more satisfied when they can see a direct, immediate result of their work. Just you watch. Morale is going to shoot up around here."

"Now that we've all got you to whip us into shape?" he'd teased.

Maya had rolled her eyes. "Hey, it could be Alan in charge. I'm not so bad at my job, am I?"

"No, not at all."

Except for some soreness, Marcus felt good and ready to attack the day head on. His first order of business was to go to the bathroom and use some mouthwash, which he did quickly. Next, he headed into the kitchen. By the position of the sun, he'd guess that it was around seven in the morning. Maya and Sam were already awake, and Will was just coming in.

"How's Ed?" Marcus asked.

"Well, his fever broke in the night. He seems better but...he's been getting a little warmer again. I think the medication just needs a little bit more time to work."

"I just hope we find that doctor soon," Marcus replied after a moment's thought. "But thanks for watching him."

"You're quite welcome. Now..." Will yawned. "I need some sleep."

Marcus wished him a good sleep and scavenged some breakfast. He found a can of corned beef hash and a bottle of water.

"God, I'd kill for some crispy bacon and milk," he said as he started eating.

"I hear you on that one," Maya said.

"Marcus! You up!?" Lily called from the main room.

"Yeah!" Marcus replied, leaving the kitchen and stepping into the next room. He saw that Jacob was still sleeping, or trying to, and Lily was at her radio station. "What is it?"

"Great news! I've tracked down Doc," she said.

Marcus felt his pulse begin to rise as relief flooded through him. "Oh, thank god. Where is he?"

"Well, that's the problem. He's out at the Wilkerson's Farm. He says he's helping one of their guys, took a fall, head trauma or something. He says he needs to finish the job out there, but that we need to come get him," Lily replied.

"Great. These guys are assholes, right?" Marcus asked.

"Well, I'm not saying they ever actually killed anyone or anything but...well, I wouldn't go alone, if I were you," she replied.

Marcus frowned, considering his options. Ed and Jacob were obviously out, and Pastor Will wouldn't be a good guy to back him up, because of his age, bum leg and personality. Maybe Sam... "I'll do it," Maya said, joining them.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Lily replied hesitantly.

"Why?" Maya asked immediately, the question almost like a challenge.

Lily bit her lip nervously. "The Wilkersons aren't what you'd call...forward thinking."

Maya snorted. "Challenge accepted. Let's go Marcus."

"Take your guns," Lily said after a moment.

"Obviously," Marcus replied.

"I...don't mean because of the zombies."

"I see. We'll be careful."

Marcus crossed the room to the makeshift armory. He checked his M9 pistol and found that he still had a full magazine loaded up. Feeling paranoid, he grabbed a second magazine and pocketed it. He wanted something more, but it wasn't like there was much to spare. He supposed he'd have to rely on the gun and his crowbar. He took a moment to check his backpack, which he was still hauling around with him. Part of him didn't want to go anywhere without it, because in the back of his mind, he knew he might come across something useful.

Not to mention the fact that it was just a handy thing to have. He opened it up and looked inside. All there was was a bottle of water. Nothing else. He'd either used up or turned over all of his other supplies. He considered it a moment, then decided to grab a few other things. He found a small, hard, plastic case with a plus symbol on the front, a medical kit, and popped it open. There were basics in there: bandages, a bottle of painkillers, Neosporin, a roll of gauze, a little bottle of cough medicine, some tongue depressors. He snapped it closed and stuffed it into his pack, then sorted through an assortment of melee weapons.

He finally settled on a black tire iron that looked unused. He slipped it into his pack, in case he ever lost his crowbar or it was finally too bent out of shape. There really wasn't much else he saw besides more melee weapons, a few more guns, magazines and medical supplies. Nothing that could make much noise or serve as a distraction. He moved back to the kitchen, grabbed another two bottles of water and then a box of high-protein breakfast bars.

"Cleaning the place out?" Maya asked, following him.

"No. If I'm going to be 'in the field', running my ass off all over this town, looking for supplies and people, I should be better equipped," Marcus replied.

"Good idea," Maya replied. "...guess I should've thought of that. I'm going to go find a backpack."

"Hey, you can't think of everything. That's what's great about having other people around," Marcus replied.

"I guess so," Maya murmured.

While she stocked up, Marcus rejoined Lily. "So...what's the deal with this doctor? Should I be worried about him, too?" he asked.

"Doc Hanson? No way. The only thing you have to worry about is maybe his grumpiness. He's an old country doctor, still makes house calls. Everyone wants him to stay with them, but he refuses to 'bed down in one place too long', as he puts it. Says it would 'inhibit his abilities to properly attend to his patients'. So he's on the move a lot. He's a great doctor, knows his stuff, delivered me and my brother into the world. Just a bit of a grump is all."

"Excellent. That's what I like to hear," Marcus replied.

"You ready?" Maya asked, joining them.

"Yep. Let's go."

* * *

Lily gave the directions. The Wilkerson's were holed up in their farm southeast of town, at the end of a long, winding dirt road. He and Maya took the car he'd taken from the vet. It's tank was still almost full and it was in good shape. Maya drove. Marcus sat in the passenger's seat and stared out the window while they drove out of Spencer's Mill.

"This is nuts," he murmured quietly.

"What is?" Maya asked.

"Me. It's the freaking zombie apocalypse and...I woke up feeling good... _twice_ now. Both mornings, I woke up feeling refreshed, looking forward to the day. I mean, not to facing the zombies, really, but, everything else..."

"Some people adapt to new situations better than others," Maya replied. "And think about it. All the shit you had to worry about before, how to dress, how you smell, paying bills, making nice with the boss or coworkers you hate...none of it matters anymore. Everything now is about survival. Staying alive. And that...clears up a lot. It hearkens back to caveman days. Back then, staying alive was a zero sum game. You spent all of your energy chasing down your food or finding shelter, there was no time to wonder what it all means, no time to get bored or get down on yourself. We're in kind of a similar situation. You've been working hard all day to stay alive, to better the church or going to rescue Jacob or get meds. You get it?"

"Yeah, I mean I guess so. I just kind of feel guilty. All these people are dead, and some of them are zombies. All this misery, families torn apart...ugh, speaking of families. What are we going to do about Lily's dad?"

"We should tell her," Maya replied. "I'd want to know. I just...I'm not so good at delivering bad news. I've had to do it before and it never got any easier, it just got worse. And as for all those dead people, well...they're dead. They don't care if you feel great or like crap. They don't feel anything anymore. Neither do the zombies, I imagine. So feel good if you can."

"Yeah, that makes enough sense."

They continued driving down the road, skirting the random zombie that was stumbling around. Before long, the farmhouse came into view. They parked outside of a barn, next to a bright yellow taxi, a cop car and a pickup truck. Marcus looked up across the huge front yard, which was in very desperate need of trimming and clean-up, to the front porch of a farmhouse, also in desperate need of clean-up and repair.

Two men were on the front porch. One of them held a rifle.

"Keep it nice and slow," Maya murmured.

They made their way up the barely visible path among all the overgrown grass, tree trunks and random crap that made up the Wilkerson's yard. The man holding the rifle kept it on them the entire time, until they were at the base of the weathered, old porch.

"Who fuckin' goes there?" he asked, and Marcus could tell immediately that he'd been drinking.

"I'm Maya, this is Marcus," Maya replied. "We heard on the radio that Doc Hanson is with you and were hoping to give him a ride back to our enclave."

"Doc's busy right now!" the man with the rifle snapped. "Doc says Eli ain't too good to move, so we ain't fucking moving' him."

"Now, Mickey," the other man, who had been leaning against the house, watching them both with a calm, level gaze, said. "That's no way to treat potential customers." He pushed himself up off the house. "My name is Job Wilkerson, this is my older brother Mickey. Our younger brother, Eli, took a bad fall last night and the Doc is looking after him right now."

Marcus sized them both up. Mickey, the drunk, was the bigger of the two, of all three, based on what he remembered about Eli. He and his brother both wore nearly identical flannel, long-sleeve shirts and work jeans with lots of pockets. But Mickey had a lot more hair, poking out from beneath the black beanie he wore and on his face. Job was slighter, but still built, and more clean-cut. He seemed calmer, more put together, and also slimier. There was something dangerous and shifty about him, like a used car salesman looking for easy pickings.

"And besides, if you hadn't noticed, you drew in a whole mess of the things! They're coming up here right goddamn now!" Mickey snapped.

Marcus and Maya both turned around. Sure enough, about a dozen, if not two dozen, zombies were coming out of the woods, stumbling towards the farmhouse.

"Shit," Marcus muttered.

"Well then, we can put our new friends to work," Job said easily. "I'm sure they won't mind helping us hold down the fort, one neighbor to another."

"We'll help," Maya replied.

"Fine!" Mickey snapped. "Figure your shit out, because I can just as gladly nail you to one of these trees and use you as bait!"

"We'll help!" Maya snarled at him.

Mickey looked at her for a moment, then drained the rest of whatever he was drinking from the bottle in his pocket, then tossed it aside. "I'm going upstairs to check on Eli. You hold their fucking hands, just don't let any of them get upstairs!" he snarled, then turned and stomped off into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I'm sorry about my brother," Job said, walking over to the door and opening it back up, inviting them in. "But he has a point. You don't want to let any of them inside, and especially not upstairs. Are we clear on that?"

"Yeah," Marcus replied, heading into the farmhouse, Maya behind him.

Once they were in, Job shut the door. There were a good seven or eight broken out windows covered up by planks of wood.

"Now, I trust that you've got guns?" Job asked.

Both Marcus and Maya pulled out their pistols. Job nodded. "Good. Those both look like they take nine millimeter bullets. There's several spare magazines over there in the gun locker. Take one each," he said.

Marcus and Maya moved across the room to a large, open safe that served as the Wilkerson's gun locker. It, and the metal shelf and table next to it, were full of all manner of weapons. Pistols, shotguns, rifles, a few submachine guns, and tons of ammo.

"Jesus," Maya whispered. "Where the fuck did you get all of this?"

Job smiled and shrugged. "You'd be surprised what you can find just lying around."

"Uh-huh," she murmured, taking a magazine. Marcus took one as well. The moans of the undead began to waft up to them as the zombies reached the perimeter of the front yard and began making their way up it.

"Zeds aren't smart, but they don't quit. This place is secure, but if you give them enough time, they'll make a hole if they can't find one. Best idea is to head-shot them from the windows. If you're good shots, we'll have this cleared up in no time," Job said.

Marcus and Maya each took a window along the front of the room. Upstairs, they could hear Mickey pacing and swearing occasionally. Job grabbed a hunting rifle with a big scope and joined them at the windows. Marcus now counted a good twenty of them hurrying up the yard, not quite running, but definitely not walking. Job got the whole thing started off by firing the first shot. A spray of blood flew from the head of the nearest one, a woman wearing a classic diner waitress outfit, and the zombie collapsed.

He shifted his aim, fired again. Marcus and Maya had to wait a little bit longer, as the pistols didn't have quite the range, and they couldn't afford to waste any bullets. By the time Job needed to reload his rifle, the swarm had reached pistol distance. Marcus took careful aim and fired. The first shot went wild, missing its mark by about a foot. He licked his lips, focused, took a deep breath and then fired again. This time the zombie's right eye disappeared in a plume of dark gore. It dropped and Marcus let out a small laugh. He shifted his aim, zeroed his sights on the slack, pale face of what looked to be a middle-aged former farmer. He fired and a dark hole appeared in the thing's forehead. It dropped. Feeling more comfortable, Marcus set to work.

He, Maya, Job and, eventually, Mickey took care of the small army of undead stumbling, walking and crawling their way up the front yard. Marcus worked through both of his spare magazines, downing close to fifteen zombies. Beyond the first twenty or so that showed up, nearly another twenty were drawn by the sounds. As Marcus was reloading the final magazine, he noticed that there were no more moans or groans.

"Looks like that's it," Job said.

Marcus began to agree, then hesitated as he heard something: a very heavy set of footsteps coming towards them. He frowned, trying to see where it was coming from.

"What _is_ that?" Maya muttered.

"I don't..." Job trailed off.

A heavy thud abruptly sounded, coming from the front porch. Something huge and immense was coming towards them, moving past the left-most windows.

"Oh, shit! It's another Big Un!" Mickey shouted from upstairs.

"Big Un?" Maya asked, stepping back with Marcus from the windows.

"One of the Miller boys," Job replied. "They got big and fat. I mean, like, _really_ big and fat."

Marcus caught a glimpse of it through the boards. It seemed too big, too tall. Not just a really big, fat country man, but like some kind of monstrosity. It continued moving past the windows. Job took a few steps back, then turned and ran across the room. An immense roar that sounded like nothing a human throat could produce was loosed, almost seeming to shake the foundation of the farm. Then, a huge crack appeared in the front door, and that _did_ shake the building.

"Uh, Job?" Marcus asked.

"Hold on, hold on," Job called back.

The door didn't stand up to much more punishment. Two more massive smacks later, and it flew apart. A monster, an easily eight or nine foot tall beast, ducked into the room. Maya and Marcus both raised their pistols. The thing must have weighed seven or eight hundred pounds, maybe more. It was immensely fat, wearing the remains of blue overalls. It let out a roar and began making for them. Right as Marcus prepared to open fire, Job abruptly reappeared. He was holding a long, powerful looking shotgun.

He pointed the broad barrel right into the thing's face and squeezed the trigger. The immense zombie's head disappeared in a flash of fire and a plume of dark gore that splattered all over the ceiling. The body stumbled backwards a few steps, then crashed to the floor.

"Goddamnit, gonna take ages to get this thing out of here and replace the door," Job muttered. He turned back to them. "You did good...let's go check on my brother."

Casually, he turned and headed across the ruined room, making his way up the stairs. Marcus and Maya slowly approached the massive corpse.

"Something's wrong with this," Maya murmured.

"Yeah, definitely. No one gets to be that big. I mean, he's like eight feet tall!"

"It's gotta be some kind of...mutation, or something," Maya replied.

"You coming!?" Job called down to them.

Marcus sighed. "Come on, let's get the doc and get the hell out of here."

They made their way upstairs and found all three Wilkerson brothers and another man, Doc Hanson, Marcus figured, in one of the bedrooms. Eli was laid out on one of the beds, Doc looking over him. Mickey paced anxiously around while Job stood next to the doctor, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"Well Doc...give us some good news," Job said.

"I...I'm sorry," Doc Hanson said after a long moment. "He's passed on. He succumbed to his head trauma."

"Wha...what?" Job asked, apparently shocked out of his self-possession. "What?" he repeated.

"Aw...shit! _Shit!_ " Mickey screamed, stumbling across the room. He kicked an old chair over. "Goddamnit it all to hell!"

"I'm sorry, boys. I did all I could do. But he went out peacefully..." Hanson hesitated. "We don't have long before he turns, I'm afraid. Minutes, maybe...you know what needs to be done."

Mickey stumbled back over, got in the doctor's face. "No way!" he declared. "No way, no how! We're buryin' Eli proper! Next to pa and uncle Jeremy out back!"

Marcus thought the doctor would be cowed by the younger man's drunken fury, but Hanson was just as stubborn, if not more so. "Your brother's dead, son. He isn't coming back. But you bury the body and it'll just claw its way out."

"Doc..." Job whispered. "You can't ask me to do this...I-I promised ma I'd take care of him..."

"I'll do it," Maya said. Everyone in the room looked at her.

"Fine," Job said, he cleared his throat. "Fine. Come on, let's go downstairs."

Everyone but Maya and Marcus cleared out of the room. They walked over to Eli's body. There was a nasty wound on his right temple. He was very pale.

"God," Marcus whispered. "Jacob's going to be devastated."

Maya lowered her pistol and pointed it at Eli's skull. "Let's hope it was just a fling," she said, then squeezed the trigger.

Without another word, she turned and marched out of the room. Marcus lingered a little more, feeling numb, dislocated, like he should say something. Finally, because it was the only thing that seemed appropriate, he whispered, "I'm sorry," and left.

* * *

"Hey, Maya!" Job called from the farmhouse.

Marcus hesitated. Doc was already in the back seat and Marcus was heading towards the passenger's side door.

"What?" Maya asked.

Job was approaching them. He seemed to have regained control of himself, his emotions. He had that same smooth, almost empty smile that made him seem somehow dangerous. "You know, me and my brother and a few of our...friends, do trading all over this valley. You ever need some bullets or food or gasoline...let me know. And, well, if you _personally_ ever need anything..." He let his gaze slide up and down her body. "I think we could work out some kind of agreement."

"Go fuck yourself," Maya snapped, then got into the car and slammed the door.

"Think about it!" Job called as the engine roared to life and Maya peeled out.


	16. Chapter 16: A Day For Bad News

"I'll tell Jacob about Eli," Doc Hanson said.

Besides a formal introduction, it was the only thing he'd said on the way back. Marcus had kept quiet, he could tell how furious Maya was. He imagined that it was her control, perhaps her military training, that had kept her from pulling out a gun and shooting Job in his dick right then and there. Now, they were just pulling into the dirt parking lot of the church.

"Are you sure?" Marcus asked.

"Yes...I've delivered bad news to him before, when his mother died," Hanson replied.

"All right," Marcus murmured.

Maya parked the car and killed the engine. Doc Hanson got out immediately and began walking towards the church's front gate, but Marcus lingered, noticing that Maya wasn't moving. After a long moment, she said, "I shouldn't go back there."

"I'm honestly hoping that none of us will ever have to go back there," Marcus replied.

Maya shook her head. "No, I can just tell. These guys...they had huge stores and stocks of stuff. And his mention of friends. I can already tell, these Wilkersons are like the black market. I'm sure they'll have tons of food, guns, ammo, water, tools, medicine, cars...at some point, I'm worried we'll have to come to them for _something._ "

"All the more reason to do our job of fixing this place up, of raiding the houses, finding survivors. If we do our job well, we won't need to rely on them for anything," Marcus replied.

Maya glanced over at him, and there was something different in her eyes. He honestly couldn't tell what it was. Not anger, not sadness...he couldn't tell. Finally, she just smiled and said, "You're real nice, you know that?"

"Well...I try," he replied awkwardly after a moment.

Maya smiled at him a moment longer, then pulled the keys from the ignition and got out of the car. Marcus followed her. They moved through the gate and lingered in the courtyard for a moment. Alan was standing atop the watchtower, ignoring them.

"Would you do me a favor?" he asked.

"What?" Maya replied.

"Go check on Ed, make sure the doctor sees to him? I...need to go talk to Lily, about her father," Marcus replied hesitantly.

"Oh...yes. Yeah, I'll do that..." she hesitated. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They split up. Marcus made his way slowly, unhappily, towards the front door. Lily was in there, sitting at her radio, probably calling out to her father right now, hoping, praying, needing to see him again. And he was going to take that hope away. He felt listless and awful. Trudging up the steps, he pushed the front door open. Lily was the only person in the room. As soon as he stepped in, she turned around, her face lit up.

"Marcus-" she began.

"Lily, wait," Marcus said, and something in his voice dimmed her enthusiasm slightly. She slowly stood up.

"What?" she asked, and now a new caution had crept into her voice.

"When Ed and Maya and I were up on Mount Tanner...we ran into your dad and his friends, Wendell and this woman..."

"Shelia Brookstone," Lily murmured.

"Yeah. He was helping people at the ranger station, sent me and Ed to check the cabins. We found Maya, no one else...by the time we got back, zombies had gotten in. Everyone there was dead...including your dad. He came back...I had to shoot him. He's the one that bit Ed," Marcus said, his voice low and miserable.

Lily swallowed, and he could see tears in her eyes, but when she spoke her voice was surprisingly calm. "I...kinda figured that something had happened by now. I've kind of been preparing myself for, you know, this kind of thing. We lost a lot of people, a lot of friends, during the initial outbreak. I just...thank you for telling me. I know that had to be hard."

"I...you're welcome," Marcus mumbled, not really sure what else to say.

Lily sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. "I'll...probably cry myself to sleep tonight, but-but not now. There's too much to do. Something happened while you were gone. The Army showed up. People were talking about hearing helicopters last night over the radio and while you were down getting Doc, a whole bunch of shooting was going on somewhere in the city. Machine gun fire, it sounded like. So they've _got_ to be nearby."

"Holy shit, thank _god,_ " Marcus replied. "I'll go get Maya and we'll check it out. Maybe they can airlift us out of here."

"That's what I'm hoping for, god knows I'm ready to get the hell out of here. Good luck."

Marcus nodded, turned and left the main building. He hurried around the side of it, back to the gazebo, where the doctor was checking both Ed and Jacob. He seemed to be just finishing up with Ed. Marcus came to stand next to Maya.

"Well, he's got a bit of a fever again...do you have him on antibiotics?" he asked.

"As many as we can spare," Maya replied.

Hanson nodded. "Good, good. The good news is that the wound hasn't become necrotic. I'm pretty sure he'll be fine by tomorrow, so long as he gets more water and a few more doses. I cleaned the wound out and reapplied his bandage, and-"

"Hey, you guys, you guys...did you ever like, really, _notice_ this ceiling?" Ed asked suddenly. To Marcus, he sounded slightly drunk. Ed giggled. "It's all like...'I'm the ceiling, I keep the rain off of you!' Oh man...good job, ceiling!"

"I also gave him some morphine," Hanson said, smirking a little. "It seems to have taken effect. I'm going to hang around here until the fever breaks, but I do believe he'll be fine."

"Thank you so much," Marcus said, immensely relieved.

Hanson shook his head. "Thank a man for doing his job, it'll just go to his head. Now, Jacob, I heard that you fell off a roof like a damned fool. Let me see that ankle..."

Marcus poked Maya in the shoulder. "Hey, good news," he said.

"Oh yeah? Did you just _poke_ me? What are, grade schoolers?" she asked.

"Ha ha, real funny, come on, we've got a job to do," Marcus said, guiding her away. He didn't want to be there when Hanson broke the unhappy news that Eli was dead. He'd had enough misery for one day. He and Maya walked away from the gazebo.

"So what's the news?" she asked when they were out of earshot.

"The Army's here," Marcus replied. "Lily seems to think they're somewhere nearby, in Spencer's Mill. She wants us to find them and, seeing as you're _in_ the Army..."

"Oh, I _knew_ it! I _knew_ I wasn't dreaming. I kept hearing helicopters last night and I thought I was just having a dream," Maya replied. "This is great, we can finally get a damned evac out of this nightmare situation."

* * *

It didn't take them long to find the Army.

Immediately, Marcus spotted a man standing at the edge of the road, outside of one of the homes at the southern edge of the town, only a few streets away from the church. He spied two more men standing in guard poses outside of the front door of the house.

"Okay, park about thirty feet away, keep it nice and slow," Maya said. "I imagine these guys have itchy trigger fingers."

"Yeah," Marcus murmured, suddenly nervous. All three men were carrying machine guns. He eased up on them, hit the brakes and threw it into park. Slowly, he and Maya got out of the car. They kept their hands visible and approached the man standing by the side of the road. He held his rifle, pointed not quite towards them, but in their general direction.

"That's close enough," he said.

"You sound familiar," Maya replied after a second.

"You do, too...Torres?"

"Yeah. Corporal Torres."

"Afghanistan...three years ago?"

"Two."

"Huh. Well, good to see you again Corporal. What the hell are you doing here? Didn't except to see someone like you breaking quarantine," the man said. He was in his early thirties, had a sunburned, unhappy face and sounded almost bored.

"Quarantine?" Maya replied, bewildered. "What the fuck are you talking about? Why haven't you been rounding up civilians for evac? What's going on?"

The man sighed. "Official government position is for civvies to lock their doors and shoot anything paler than your average geek."

"You...you aren't here to rescue us?" Marcus asked.

"Big shocker. No."

"You fucking piece of shit!" Maya snapped. "What the fuck are you doing here?! What kind of fucking man are you?! You sit here with your thumb up your ass while we're fighting and dying, getting eaten alive and-"

"Corporal Torres!" the man snapped suddenly, glancing back over his shoulder. "Look, I've got orders, all right? So I suggest you get the hell out of here before the Captain comes out of that house. Orders are to evict squatters and shoot looters. Keep doing whatever it is you're doing to stay alive and I'll pretend I didn't see you."

"You fucking coward," Maya said, her voice very low. "Come on, Marcus, we're leaving."

Marcus turned and followed Maya back to the car. They got in, Marcus turned on the engine and turned the car around. He drove away. Most of the ride back to the church, Maya didn't say anything. She sat fuming, and Marcus wondered if she was going to pop a vein or something. Today had not been a good day for any of them, but it seemed particularly unpleasant for her.

"I can't believe this shit," she muttered finally as they pulled into the lot. "Come on, we've got to call a meeting, let everyone know."

"All right," Marcus replied.

They went around the church, splitting up. Doc Hanson was still around, and Ed was awake and coherent enough to walk into the main room. They rounded up everyone.

"What's going on?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, what's up?" Sam asked.

"I've got news," Maya replied. "The Army is in Trumbull Valley."

A general cheer went up. "All right!" Jacob cried. "Finally, some good news."

Maya shook her head, raised her hands. "No, it's _not_ good news," she said, speaking over the others. "Official orders are to, and I quote, 'evict squatters and shoot looters'. I think they're here doing research on the zombies. It's the only thing that makes sense. Which means...well, screw them! We don't need them! We've been on our own for this long. There's still so much more we can do. We need to get to work, though. If...if push comes to shove, and the Army or the Wilkersons or _whoever_ shows up at our doorstep to take what we have, we need to be able to kick their ass."

"Maya's right," Marcus said. "We can do this."

"Can we?" Lily asked. She sounded crestfallen, defeated.

"Hey," Jacob said, straightened up. "Come on, sis, don't say that. We _can_ do this. I lost Eli. We lost mom, we lost dad and the others...but we're still here. Still alive. This girl looks smart and that guy had the guts to smack me in the head on _your_ orders, even though he had no idea who I really was. Sam is tough as nails, Alan...has his uses, you're smart as hell, Lily. Pastor Will, I'm sure, will be the one to keep us all sane. We can _do_ this," Jacob said.

"Hey, I can do stuff, too!" Ed said. Then he giggled. " _Tons_ of stuff, I make pizza like you would not _believe,_ " he added.

"Morphine," Marcus said.

Almost everyone in the room burst out laughing.

"Okay, okay, fine, you won me over. Sign me up," Lily replied.

"Good...let's get to work," Maya said.


	17. Chapter 17: Plain, Hard Work

Three days passed.

Once Maya got started, she really didn't stop. Marcus was impressed. In approximately seventy two hours, she managed to whip the church into shape.

On the first day, she organized a schedule for the watchtower. Everyone was on the schedule...except for Marcus and Maya. Alan didn't like that one, and immediately had started arguing about it. Maya explained that she and Marcus were exempt from the schedule because they were the designated explorers. It would be their job to head into town, pretty much every day pretty soon, and explore the abandoned structures for supplies. Considering the danger and exertion the job entailed, they deserved it.

No one argued after that, even Alan backed off.

On top of that, Maya made sure everyone had radios, (there were just enough of the little, black handhelds), and that everyone had a map, (there were more than enough of those). She then began working with Lily to commit everything about Trumbull Valley in general and Spencer's Mill in particular to memory. While she did that, Sam, Jacob and Ed began to inventory everything while Marcus set to work scrubbing down the basement and getting it ready to be an infirmary. When that was done, she set him to work preforming inventory on everything outside of the church but still within the protective perimeter wall.

It wasn't a very fun task.

Despite how motivated everyone was, they didn't get as much done on the first day as they'd hoped for. Everyone was still getting used to this level of work, and Ed and Jacob were still recovering. Still, Marcus went to bed that night exhausted and satisfied.

On the second day, work resumed with enthusiasm. Marcus was surprised at how much everyone threw themselves into the tasks Maya assigned them. They finished inventorying everything in the church and set to work making improvements to the watchtower. That and actually cleaning and organizing everything in the church took up the rest of the second day. By the time the sun was setting, the place was practically spotless.

Sam, Ed and Jacob had argued on that one, saying there were better things they could be doing. Maya stuck to her maxim that an organized environment led to an organized mind. Marcus had to give her that one. Nothing got him pumped and cleared his head quite in the same way cleaning his apartment did. So, they got to it, used up a good portion of the bleach and Windex. While they did that, Maya set to work coming up with a way to figure out how to divvy up the food and water they had per person per day.

The third, and final, day of this renewal, or, as Pastor Will liked to refer to it, revival, saw the most activity. Marcus, Jacob and Maya set up the room-sized tent, broke down the bunk-bed in the main room and rebuilt it in the tent. They also moved in a dresser, an end table and a pair of folding chairs, as well as the two beds from the gazebo, which Maya decided was going to be repurposed as an outdoors eating area.

She moved a large, breakdownable picnic table they'd discovered in the basement into the gazebo and moved Will's desk into the main room, not far from Lily's radio workstation. They scavenged a handful of chairs from the basement junk as well, and declared it done. The final portion of the day was spent sorting through everything from the basement. They managed to salvage some furniture that they broke down to beef up the watchtower, some kitchen utensils, about a boxful of books, (most of the paperbacks were too warped, eaten up or torn apart to be legible) and a ton of spare blankets, pillows and clothing articles.

They ended up moving anything left that could be used to burn when winter came back into the basement, shoving it all in a far corner. They also moved a large metal locker, a desk and a small, squat dresser downstairs to hold their minimal medical supplies. Maya wanted to move beds down there when they found more, for obvious reasons.

As the sun was setting on the third day, Maya called a group meeting.

"One week," she said as the conversation died away. They were all gathered in the main room, Maya standing at the front, where Will would normally stand to deliver his sermons. She looked pleased, but also reserved and a little nervous.

"What?" Marcus replied finally. They were all either sitting in foldout chairs or on the floor, or leaning against the walls.

"Based on our bullet, food, water and medical supply usage, and after applying a bit of a ration schedule, I've estimated that we have a week before we run out. Obviously, we need more. Starting tomorrow, Marcus and I are going to begin scavenging runs. Also, I'm going to set up another schedule for others to head out and do some scavenging runs of their own. I think it would be in all of our interests if we keep up the work and keep this place clean and running like clockwork. There are zombies everywhere, the Army is here and based on the threatening messages they've been spouting out recently, they aren't looking too friendly, and our neighbors consist of people like the Wilkersons and their ilk. We need to stay sharp. Questions?"

"If the Army isn't going to help us...what's our endgame?" Jacob asked.

"Survival," Maya replied simply.

"And beyond that?"

Maya shrugged. "Rebuild civilization? Retake the valley? Repopulate? We don't have enough information. We don't know if this is a localized incident or we're looking at World War Z."

"That movie was awesome!" Ed said.

"Nowhere near as good as the book," Marcus muttered.

Maya cleared her throat. "So we survive for now. Make friends, scavenge supplies, kill zombies, fortify our position. Any more questions?"

There were none.

Maya nodded. "Good. Go to sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

* * *

Marcus stood looking up at the new and improved watchtower in the warming sunshine. Before, it had just been a relatively stable platform atop four stacks of forty gallon drums and spare wood nailed together with a makeshift ladder. Now, the base of the tower was a lot sturdier, the ladder was rock solid, the platform was steady and didn't make anyone nervous when they stood on it and they had built a canopy overhead, to keep the rain or sun off of whoever stood atop it. The new watchtower imbued a strange sense of power and motivation in him.

He checked his gear. Radio clipped to his belt, fully loaded M9 pistol tucked into a holster he'd managed to find among all the supplies, two spare magazines tucked into his pocket, his red crowbar in hand and an empty backpack strapped to his back. Well, almost empty, there was a packet of tuna and crackers and two bottles of water in the front pocket and the backup melee weapon. He'd replaced the box of granola bars, (well, what remained of them.)

"Ready to go?" Maya asked.

He turned around. She looked good, now wearing some form-fitting running shorts and a tight black tanktop. A pair of black sneakers completed the look. She'd also cut her dark black hair since last night. It was shorter now, a little bit less than shoulder-length. There was just enough for her to pull it up into a small ponytail.

"Uh...yeah," he replied.

Maya smirked. "You okay?"

"Yeah...fine...I, uh, like your hair," he said quickly, then turned around and began walking for the gate. "We should get going."

Maya laughed. "Oh my god, you are so awkward around women, aren't you?"

"No! Not all of them."

She walked up behind him and patted him on the back. "Come on, let's go. I promise not to bite or anything."

"Ugh...where are we going first?" he asked as they made their way to the edge of the gravel parking lot. The church was built onto a rise of land that overlooked a pair of backyards and three houses. There were two to the left, down the gentle slope of dirt, and one dead ahead, past about a dozen trees. Maya seemed to be considering it.

She looked very beautiful in the early morning sun.

Marcus suppressed a sigh. This was stupid. He was five days into the zombie apocalypse and again, his mind was crowded with thoughts of a girl. She was a very attractive, very competent, very sexy girl, no, not girl, a _woman_ , but...still, it was stupid. Maya seemed to come to a decision. She struck off towards the house dead ahead.

"This one," she said.

"Okay."

They wound their ways through the trees, kicking through the underbrush, keeping a sharp eye out for any stumbling, groaning nightmares wandering around nearby. But there were none. Distantly, they could hear the occasional groan echoing across the city. They made it to the back porch. Maya stopped and Marcus did with her. They stared up at the house. The single window along the ground story was broken out, the glass teeth that ringed the window frame smeared with blood. After a moment, Maya walked up to the back door and tried it.

It was unlocked. It opened on the first try. They stepped into an almost totally empty kitchen. The only thing left were the counters and a refrigerator.

"Come on, first we'll search the area, confirm it's clear, then we'll do our search," Maya said.

"On it," Marcus replied.

They made their way through the first floor, which was easy, considering all that was left was the living room and a small hallway with a stairwell leading to the second story. Maya went first and Marcus watched her back. Or tried not to. They worked their way through another hallway and three more rooms: two bedrooms and a bathroom. Like the downstairs, they seemed practically empty. There were just random articles of clothing, debris and the occasionally piece of furniture left. There were no zombies, either.

Maya seemed disappointed. "It looks like they were in the process of moving out," she murmured. "Well, at least this'll be easy. You stay up here, see what you can find."

Marcus nodded and set to work. It took them the better part of an hour, but they went through the house, from top to bottom, hunting in every niche they could find. Unfortunately, all they turned up were a couple of cans of beans, forgotten at the back of one of the cabinets. Marcus stuffed them into his backpack and they left the house. Maya took a moment to pull out her map and mark it off with a black, circled X.

Marcus did the same on his.

"Good thing we came by," Maya said. "Lily told me she loves this brand of beans. She'll be happy. Come on, let's head to the next one."

As they walked across backyards, in between trees, Maya suddenly asked, "Do you think I'm doing a good job?"

"What? Yeah, of course."

"You aren't just saying that, are you?"

"No. Really. You're smart, making good, level-headed decisions, keeping us safe, teaching us. And you aren't afraid to listen to suggestions and make changes based on them. I don't know if we're going to make it, there's too much, too many factors to take into consideration, but I know we've got a hell of a higher chance now because you're here and in charge. The only thing that really worries me is Alan. I feel like...I don't know, he's harboring a grudge against us all," Marcus replied.

"Well, that much is obvious. He's in a bad mood all the time," Maya said.

"Yeah. I guess what I mean is, I'm worried he's going to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"I don't know."

They reached the next house and found it to be less empty, both of furniture and of zombies. As soon as Marcus stepped into the kitchen through the back door, he found himself staring at a pair of zombies. One wore a cop's uniform, another wore torn work jeans and a flannel shirt. He raised his crowbar, dashed forward and brought it down on the former cop's head in one swift motion. There was a sharp, nasty crack and the zombie collapsed as its skull caved in. He turned to take on the other one, but Maya was already there, bashing the thing's head in with an iron poker, the kind used to tend to fireplaces.

Behind him, Marcus heard shattering glass and a low groan. He whirled around and saw a teenager with glowing yellow eyes crawling in through the window. There were more lumbering shapes behind him, in the yard.

"We've got incoming!" Marcus called.

"There's more coming in from the rest of the house!" Maya called back.

Marcus tossed a glance over his shoulder and saw another one coming in through the only other door in the room. Maya was already moving to take care of it. Marcus returned his attention to the zombie crawling in through the window, heedless of the glass shards that bit into its hands and arms. As soon as he had a clear shot, he brought the crowbar around in a tight arc, cracking its skull and spraying its dark blood across the wall and ceiling. He shoved the body back out the window with his foot, and then repeated the action two more times as more zombies tried to do the same thing. Those two taken care of, he turned around and spied Maya slowly backing away as three zombies rushed into the room, groaning and reaching.

"A little help would be nice," she said.

Marcus stepped next to her and readied his bloody crowbar. Maya raised her poker. They set to work. It took another ten minutes to clear the house, not just from a few more lingering uglies that were still in the building itself, but from close to ten more that were drawn in by the sound of conflict. Marcus was out of breath by the time the final zombie fell. They both stood stock still in the main room of the house, waiting, listening.

Finally, as if acting on some unseen signal, Maya let out her breath in a slow sigh. "Well, _that_ was bullshit," she muttered.

Marcus nodded in agreement, wiping sweat from his forehead. They began searching the house, moving slowly and thoroughly, checking in every drawer, beneath every piece of furniture, everywhere they could think of. It paid off, too. They found a few scattered bullets, a hunting knife, several more cans of food and some bottled water stashed in a backpack shoved beneath a bed. As Marcus finished checking out the pack, Maya walked into the room and studied the bed. It was a simple bed, meant for one person, complete with sheets, pillows and a blanket.

"We're going to need this," she said, staring at it. "For the infirmary. Also, there's a medicine cabinet in the bathroom that'd be perfect for holding meds."

"How do we get then home?" Marcus replied.

"There's that pickup truck in front of the church, also the jeep, but the truck'll be better. Hell, we can just drive it right down the incline into this place's backyard. It'll fit between the trees and it has four-wheel drive. We can back right up to the door, break down the bed into its component parts, load it up and drive it home."

"Okay, sounds like a plan," Marcus said.

They finished stuffing their supplies into their packs, then left the house and made their way back up to the church.

"We'll have to ask Lily where the keys to the truck are," Maya said as they moved through the gate.

"Hey, I was just going to look for you." Jacob was coming down the main steps of the church. "Something's come up."

"What?" Maya asked, sounding apprehensive.

"Go ask Lily. She's asking for you and Marcus...why do you need the keys to the truck?" Jacob asked.

"Is it yours?" Maya replied.

"Yeah."

"There's a bed and a medicine cabinet in the house down the hill." Maya pointed. "We need to bring them up here for the infirmary."

"Hell, me and Ed can do that."

"You sure?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah. My ankle's pretty much healed up and...well, between you and me, I think it'll be best for him if he gets out into the town. He won't say anything, but I think he's freaked out, he probably thinks this is all worse than it really is. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's horrible, but I think he thinks the moment he steps foot out of these gates he'll be eaten alive. A simple fetch mission fifty feet away will help build his confidence," Jacob replied.

"That's a good point...thanks, I appreciate you watching out for him," Marcus said.

Jacob offered him a crooked smile. "You and him are close, huh? The way he goes on about you, it was like you were his big brother or something...well, go on, go see Lily. I'll go find Ed."

Marcus and Maya went into the church. Lily sat alone in the main room at her radio, talking to someone. She glanced back as they approached. "Oh, they're here. I'll talk to them and get right back to you," she said.

"What's up?" Maya asked.

"Something's come up. There's another enclave that lives down the street, at the Kirkman place. It's a big house with a privacy fence of concrete, just like ours. They've done pretty good for themselves, but they're running low on ammo. They want to go raid the gun shop around the corner, but I guess no one's hit it yet because it's infested," Lily replied.

"Infested? You make it sound like it's more than the usual amount of zombies hanging around these places," Maya said.

Lily sighed. "It is. There's probably a couple of dozen of them packed in there. I don't know why, but some buildings are just more popular than others. It's really dangerous. They said that if we helped them clear it out, they'd split the bullets with us."

"Can't say no to that..." Maya murmured. "Well, Marcus, you up for it?" she asked, turning to face him.

He nodded. "Yeah, definitely."


	18. Chapter 18: Pest Control

"This is kind of awkward," Marcus said as they walked down the street.

"Yeah," Maya replied softly.

It was getting to be mid-afternoon, the sun high in the sky but mercifully hidden behind a thickening gray cloud cover. Marcus thought that it might rain tonight. That would be pleasant, peaceful. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed a rainy day. Of course he might change his tune once he had to fight zombies in the rain, or move a bunch of crap in it. Or both at the same time. He took another quick look around.

A few zombies milled about, stumbling around front yards. They didn't seem to notice the pair as they made their way down the center of the street. What Lily referred to as the Kirkman residence was a house on the right side of the street very close to the church. All they had to do was walk down the soft dirt incline to the left of the church, cross through a yard and come out onto the very road they were now walking down.

The house they were making their way towards had a stonework privacy fence built around it. Someone was standing behind the fence atop something, not a watchtower like theirs, but definitely something. Their torso was exposed and they had a rifle in hand. They were covering Marcus and Maya as they approached.

"That's close enough," the person said.

Marcus studied him. He was scrawny and white, his face covered in several days' worth of stubble. He wore a black t-shirt with **Ko** **Яn** scrawled across it in severe white lettering. Marcus recognized the shirt, a friend of his had had one like it all through high school. The hands with which he held the rifle weren't entirely steady.

"Okay," Marcus said, stopping with Maya. "We're here because of the call on the radio. I understand we have a deal to clear out a gun shop?"

"Yeah...hold on. Don't move an inch."

He turned around and dropped down off of whatever he was standing on. A moment passed in uncomfortable silence, then he suddenly reappeared. At that same moment, the black iron gate that served as an entryway to the property opened up. Two people emerged. One was a tanned woman with brown hair pulled into a tight, functional ponytail. She wore jogging shorts and a plain white t-shirt and held a long-barreled silver revolver. The other was a man in jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped out. He seemed younger than her, with pale blonde hair and a friendly, open face. He carried a pump action shotgun.

"Hi," the woman said. She resembled the man standing behind the privacy wall. Marcus suddenly realized that they were siblings. "My name is Linda Porter. This here is Tucker. The nervous guy with the rifle is my brother Daniel."

"Hello. I'm Marcus."

"I'm Maya."

"Pleased to meet you. I trust you're ready for all the shooting we've got to do? No quiet way to deal with an infestation, so we're likely going to draw in others," Linda said.

"Good to go," Marcus replied, patting his pocket with the two spare magazines.

"Same," Maya replied.

"Excellent. Let's get going, it's just around the corner."

They began walking down the street, now four of them, four young survivors of the zombie apocalypse. Or was it? He still had no idea how widespread it was. Though the fact that the Army was here in force and quarantining them all made him think that it might be a local thing. And that gave him hope. Not exactly a personal hope, because he wasn't so sure about making it out of this place alive, but a broader hope.

Maybe they could stop and contain it here.

As they reached the end of the street and began turning right, Marcus spied movement across the street, behind the windows of a local mini-mart, the Tartan Mart. The movement didn't look listless or stilted, like the zombies, it looked human.

"Hey...are there people over there?" he asked.

"Where?" Maya replied. "Oh, yeah, there's an enclave in there. Two or three, I'm not sure. They're not really open to negotiation, though that's going to have to change eventually," she said.

"Well, you certainly know your facts," Tucker said, cautiously impressed. Marcus thought he heard a note of suspicion.

"I had Lily give me all the information she's gathered so far. I know about you, them, the Wilkersons and a group out on the Miller Farm. There's also some kind of activity going on in Marshall, though we haven't heard _anything_ from Fairfield. I'm in the Army, the ability to memorize facts quickly is kind of in the job description."

"Whoa," Linda said, stopping and turning around. "You're in the Army? Does that mean-"

But Maya was shaking her head. "Been there, done that. The Army told me to fuck off. And I _knew_ one of the guys there, a Sergeant. It didn't mean dick."

Linda sighed, turned back around and kept walking. The gun shop was up ahead. Marcus could see the two-story boxy structure. It, for some reason, made him think of the Wild West. "Well that sucks," Linda muttered miserably.

"Tell me about it," Maya replied.

"Okay, we're almost there, everyone ready?" Tucker asked.

Marcus gave an affirmative response. He had his pistol out.

"I think what would make the most sense is to get into the parking lot, cover all the angles, and then try to get them to come out to us," Maya said. "It'd be stupid to walk into a confined space with a bunch of zombies."

"That's...a great idea," Linda said. "I like it."

"Thanks," Maya replied.

They made their way into the dusty gravel parking lot, passed a rusted-out old red pickup that looked like it might never again run. Marcus took a quick survey of the area. There were a few zombies milling around within eyesight. There was a house behind them, across the street, with a few dead-heads wandering about with their glowing eyes, looking a little like lawn ornaments. To the left, also across the street, was a fast food joint, a Swine & Bovine. That made Marcus suddenly hungry. He remembered how damned good their burgers were. Forcing himself to focus, he turned his attention to the gun shop itself.

It had a big, plate-glass window in the front, and that gave them a great view of the interior. The walls were lined with shelves and racks for weapons, and there was a long, glass display case that bisected the room and held the cash register. There were over a dozen dark, shifting shapes inside. Probably more than that, Marcus couldn't see them all.

"Time to let them know we're here...ready?" he asked, raising his pistol.

Everyone gave an affirmative response. Marcus sighted the nearest zombie, a middle-aged man in a hunting vest missing half the skin on his face, standing nearest to the plate glass. He squeezed the trigger. The shot was good. It made a foot-wide hole in the glass and smashed into the zombie's ugly face, spraying its brains and blood all over the others.

The reaction was immediate and volatile.

The remainder of the glass shattered as a living wave of undead smashed through it. The front door burst open, admitting six more of the ugly freaks. Marcus immediately opened fire, hammering away at the seething horde that was coming directly for him. He put down one, two, three...behind him and beside him, he could hear the immense report of the revolver and the powerful blast of the shotgun. Beneath it all, he could hear Maya's own weapon, working quickly, quicker than he was. He was glad she had his back, she was an excellent shot.

Marcus kept firing. Here was a woman in a white dress, torn and bloodied. He put a hole in her forehead. Here was a teenager in a hoodie and sweat pants. His right eye explode and he collapsed to the ground, beneath dead gray skies. Marcus emptied his first magazine, putting down just over a dozen zombies, and hastily reloaded.

As he slammed a fresh magazine in, something new stumbled out through the door. At first, he thought it was just a regular, armless zombie, but he quickly saw that it was anything but regular. Its skin was a very dull gray and it wore nothing but shredded cargo pants. It had no arms and its head was perfectly bald and smooth. It seemed almost bulbous. It was also missing its jaw and portions of its neck seemed to be exposed muscle.

Marcus began aiming when, suddenly, the thing leaned back, as though preparing to sneeze, and let out an earsplitting shriek. Marcus screamed, but couldn't hear himself do so, dropping his gun in an automatic reaction and clapping his hands over his ears. It didn't seem to help. He stumbled, dazed, a horrid pain ripping through his skull. It felt like his eardrums were going to burst. Then, mercifully, it was over.

"What the hell was that!?" Maya cried, her voice sounding distant.

Noise, Marcus realized suddenly as he dropped to his knees to retrieve his gun. Noise drew in the zombies. And this thing looked like it was _designed_ to do that. By the time he had his gun and was standing back up, he saw that the thing was gearing up for another shriek. He aimed and fired three times in rapid succession. All three shots hit it in its bulbous head and the cranium literally exploded in a spray of blood and gore.

"We've got incoming!" Tucker cried behind them.

Marcus growled in frustration, head still hurting. There were still more of them coming out of the store. He took aim and kept up the fire, trying to stop the zombie tide on his end. He expended another magazine, making most of his shots, and as the gun clicked dry, put down the last zombie. He turned around and cried out in surprise. A small horde had gathered on Linda's side, coming from the left, and suddenly there was no time to reload.

"Help!" Linda cried, her own gun running dry.

"I'm on it!" Marcus said, dropping his gun and pulling out his crowbar.

He barely managed to bring it up over his head and then down sharply as the first zombie reached them. A sharp crack cut through the air and blood sprayed his face. Ignoring the awful taste and sensation, he kicked the corpse back into the others, sending them stumbling and giving them a precious few seconds of breathing room. Linda was holding a black baseball bat. She took a few steps back and swung hard.

Another zombie went down with a sharp crunch that made Marcus wince. He brought his own crowbar around in a tight arc, breaking the skull of a third zombie. He heard more gunfire behind him, more shrieking, but there was no time for that now. He made a quick jabbing motion with the pointy end of the crowbar, breaking in through the forehead of the next undead horror. Slipping it back out, he suddenly found himself in the arms of a large male zombie. It grasped him with a cold, iron grip and began lowering its jaws towards his neck.

He cried out for help, and suddenly the top of the zombie's head was blown away. Still holding onto him as it fell, the thing brought Marcus down with it. He struggled to get out of the thing's fingers and finally managed to stand back up. As he surged to his feet, ready to continue the fight, he suddenly found himself in a sea of silence.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"Yep, we did it," Linda replied with a nervous laugh.

"Thank god," Tucker muttered.

* * *

"Come on, let's get in there and see if it was worth it," Maya said.

It was worth it, all right.

The gun shop seemed to be almost totally untouched. The glass display case and a few of the racks were empty, so it was obvious that someone had gotten in at some point, but there were tons of guns and a ridiculous amounts of ammo stashed in the back office and the upstairs storage rooms. There were shelves, racks, lockers, cases, crates and containers of all sorts. Nine millimeters, shotgun shells, five point five sixes, twenty-twos, three fifty sevens, forty-fours...a veritable garden of bullets. It would have taken two trips if another one of the other team's members, an older, soft-spoken man named Brady with a benevolent temperament, hadn't come down with an extra backpack and two empty rucksacks.

They spent the better part of an hour combing over the gun store, making sure they grabbed every pistol, every last shotgun shell, everything of any use. Then they made their way quickly back up the street to the Kirkman residence and spent another two hours there sorting through the ammo and dividing it up properly.

While they were there, they also got to know everyone who lived at the residential enclave.

Linda was in her early thirties and had part-timed as a cashier at the Swine & Bovine. She seemed even-tempered, nice and was prone to bouts of honest laughter. Her brother, Daniel, younger by five years, was a gas station attendant and called himself a gamer. He lamented the loss of Xbox Live and the internet in general, and Marcus found himself in general agreement. Linda confided that that was the real reason he was so grumpy.

Tucker explained, with a lit cigarette that always seemed on the verge of falling from his mouth but somehow never did, that he had been a chef in his former life. Technically, he still was, but it was hard to cook without gas or electricity. He was a short-order cook at the Fork in the Road Diner and had part-timed as a fry cook at the Swine & Bovine with Linda. He had a laid back demeanor and, despite the fact that he seemed a few years younger than Daniel, Marcus got the impression that there was something physical going on between Tucker and Linda.

The man who had come to see them, Brady Ivanov, seemed to be the one in charge of the enclave, though he'd apparently never admit to this. He was a slightly overweight, balding man in his mid forties who had originally come from Ukraine. He still had a slight hint of accent. He was immensely polite and told them that he had been a dentist, one of the very few in Trumbull Valley.

The final member of the Enclave was a pale, miserable woman with limp black hair and baggy, bloodshot eyes. Her name was Danica and she had once been a paramedic in New York for three years. The experience had aged her terribly. Although she was only twenty seven, she looked easily ten years older. She'd moved to Trumbull Valley after becoming a burned-out alcoholic. She'd taken to making house calls and working at a clinic in Marshall, but while she'd left the job and most of the stress behind in New York, she'd kept the alcoholism. The zombie apocalypse had erased any of the healing she'd undergone after moving to the quiet countryside.

Marcus felt very bad for her.

Once they were finished, both he and Maya had two full backpacks, two duffel bags and two rucksacks full nearly to bursting with guns and ammo.

"Thanks," Marcus said as they stepped out.

"Yes, definitely, this was great. Thank you," Maya said.

"Hey, I'm glad we worked together and got to know each other," Linda replied, standing at the gate. "Except for some crazy asshole trying to break in one night and a few tentative failed passes at the people in the Tartan, we haven't had any real positive contact with anyone else since this whole thing started up. If you want to trade or do another run like that or just talk, feel free to get us on the radio," she said, sounding genuinely happy.

"We most certainly will, I'm sure there's a lot we'll be doing in the near future," Maya replied. "See you later."

As they began walking away, Marcus groaned quietly. "This stuff weighs a million pounds," he muttered.

"Yeah. I'm praying we don't run into any zombies on the way back," Maya replied.


	19. Chapter 19: Trust Issues

By the time they made their way back to the Church, what Marcus had come to think of as home, as a genuine refuge from the world at large, it was approaching mid-afternoon. As they walked up the dirt incline, they heard the sounds of men at work, and saw Jacob, Ed, Sam and even Pastor Will unloading supplies from the back of Jacob's truck. Well, men _and_ women at work. Alan presided over all of this, studying them with a dispassionate eye from atop the watchtower, rifle in hand, still done up in his ranger's uniform.

Marcus wondered if the man would ever take it off.

"Hey, what's all this?" Maya asked.

"We decided to keep going after you left," Ed replied. "We moved on to that other house, the one next to the one we took the bed from."

"What'd you find?" Maya asked

"Well two more beds and a stash of medicine. We have enough to finish out the infirmary you had us set up in the basement. If memory serves, then that's all that was on the list of stuff to do," Ed replied.

Maya nodded slowly, thinking it over. "Yeah...except for wall repairs. But I can do that. If I get started soon, I should be able to finish by nightfall."

A loud shot rang out, startling them from their conversation. They glanced over and saw a zombie, now mostly headless, collapsing at the edge of the gravel pit. Marcus, Maya and Ed glanced back up at the watchtower, at Alan. He looked back down at them, saying nothing, rifle in hands, barrel smoking slightly.

"Come on," Maya said.

She led them in through the gates while the others came back for one more load out of the truck. The trio walked across the courtyard and up the weathered stone steps to the main entryway of the church, where they heard Lily engaged in quiet, unhappy conversation with someone. She seemed to be very into it, so they left her alone for the moment.

"Wow, that's quite a haul," Ed said as Marcus and Maya let their quartet of rucksacks drop.

"Yep," Maya replied. "We should have enough guns and ammo to last for quite a while, months at least, if the rate of usage is consistent."

"Holy crap," Ed marveled as they unzipped the rucksacks. The barrels of a few rifles and shotguns also poked out of their backpacks, which they shrugged out of.

"Yeah. Hey, the gun nuts finally got something right for once," Marcus said with a laugh. "Now we get to sort through all this, equip everyone..."

Lily heaved a sound that was half a sigh, half a frustrated growl. She sat back in her seat and ran her hands through her hair.

"What's up?" Maya asked.

"Something unpleasant has come up," Lily replied. She turned to face them. "I've been getting reports of people getting robbed. Like, straight up beaten up and stolen from. A few break-ins, too, in the middle of the night. Either no one has actually seen these guys doing it or they're too afraid to tattle but...it's got to be the Wilkersons."

"Fantastic," Marcus muttered.

"So what do we do about it?" Ed asked. "I mean, we've done pretty well for ourselves and it's not exactly a secret, I imagine."

"We should ask them directly," Marcus said.

They looked over at him. "You sure that's such a good idea?" Lily asked uncomfortably.

"No, but it'll be interesting to hear what they have to say. And it might be a good chance to see exactly how many guys they have hanging out over there."

"That's a good point," Maya murmured. "Like a recon, a scouting run. Determine the enemy's strength and capabilities." She looked at Marcus with a bright gaze in her eyes, but then something darkened it and she frowned. "You should go. And take someone with you. But it shouldn't be me that joins you."

"What? Why not? You'd be perfect."

"No, I'd the perfectly wrong choice. If I see those two creeps again...well, let's just say that I might do something stupid and involves a trigger."

"Ah," Marcus replied, remembering the way Job had looked at her, had propositioned her. In all honesty, he wouldn't blame Maya is she shot his finger off. Or his fool head. "Okay, I'll go and see if I can find someone to join me."

"I'll come," Ed said.

"Really?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? It's about time I got out into town anyway, and it's been too long since we've had a moment to ourselves."

"Okay, great. We'll take the jeep."

"Good luck," Maya said as she went back to sorting the guns and ammo.

"And please be careful," Lily said.

"We will," Marcus promised.

They left the church, pausing once to snag the key for the jeep off the key-chain rack Maya had bolted to the wall next to the door. They crossed the courtyard and pushed through the iron gates, stepping into the gravel parking lot. They still only had the three cars: Jacob's blue pickup truck, the red jeep that Marcus had finally learned belong to Will and the red four-door, mud-spattered station wagon he, Maya and Ed had originally driven up in several days ago. Was it only a few days ago? It felt like weeks at least.

Marcus got into the driver's seat, since he knew the way there, and Ed clambered up into the passenger's seat. For the first few minutes, as he backed up, pulled out of the lot and began navigating the city, headed south for the isolated farmstead, neither man spoke. Then, finally, Ed let out a short little laugh.

Marcus sighed. "What?" he asked.

It was a familiar kind of laugh.

"You've got like a big crush on Maya," he said. "And don't try to deny it! I've seen you running all over town with her. You totally have a thing for her, which is kind of funny given the fact that she's like completely different from the girls you normally date."

Marcus sighed and prepared to launch into a debate with Ed, to defend himself, but he quickly realized that the man was right. A quick examination of his past four relationships revealed such. To varying degrees, all of these women were not like Maya. When he was in college, he'd dated a girl who lived off campus with her parents. He had nothing against living with your parents, but it just seemed that this girl would never get her life together. She had no job, no car, not even a driver's license. She'd relied on him for everything.

She was very beautiful though.

Marcus thought that he'd made a big step forward in Growing Up when he'd broken up with her, convinced that she would never grow up and would only hold him back. He still believed this, but then he'd gone on to date a girl that was only marginally better. She was a hot, short-haired tomboy who loved to drive fast, party hard and drink her ass off. He'd had a fun, insane six months with her, and then she'd dumped him because she got sick of being 'tied down'. He couldn't exactly blame her, college _was_ for exploration and all that...

After college, there had been another two girls. One had been boring and predicable, which was who he thought an adult man should be dating, and the other had been kind of a reversion back to his teenage years after the boring relationship had nearly driven him nuts. But that hadn't worked out either, and he'd simply given up on women for a while after that.

And along came Maya.

She was strong, decisive and fiercely independent. And she was sexy. She was sexy without even trying. Not once had he seen her...well, put-together, he supposed, since they'd met. She never wore makeup, she hadn't had a shower once since their time up on Mount Tanner, and her hair was always pulled into a rough, functional ponytail. And yet he couldn't help but think that trying to put makeup on her would be like gilding the lily, so to speak. She was already extremely beautiful, and putting something like a dress or makeup on her would only douse her natural beauty, not amplify it. She looked best when she was outdoors in a tanktop and running shorts.

"Yeah, fine, you got me," Marcus said, finally.

"Well...about time you owned up to something," Ed replied with a smirk.

Marcus sighed. "It doesn't make much difference. I mean, what could I do about it? We're in the middle of a damned warzone. Zombies and nutjobs everywhere...even if she _was_ interested, what kind of relationship could we have?"

"A fun one, maybe...but I get what you mean. I..." He hesitated, and Marcus glanced over. "I've kind of been talking a lot to Lily," he said.

"Lily? Talking like...interested talking? How old is she?" he asked.

"She's nineteen," Ed replied defensively. "Right now, I think it's just that I'm a shoulder to cry on. Not that she really needs one...Lily's a real hardass, too. Not in a bad way. She's a lot tougher than I think a lot of people would give her credit for. But she's just lost her dad and Jacob isn't exactly in the best position to be offering sympathy, given that he lost his boyfriend...man, it's just been a shitty week for everyone."

"Yeah, true that," Marcus replied.

They were on the dirt road heading out of town now, towards the farmland.

"But we talk about a lot of stuff. She seems to kind of seek me out of the crowd, you know? Maybe I'm just imaging things, she's really pretty and nice and smart, so obviously the attraction's there on my end, but..." he shrugged. "I'd be able to get a better read on the situation if you'd been paying _any_ attention lately."

Marcus laughed. "Well, like you said, I've got this thing for Maya."

"Yeah, whatever. So tell me about these guys."

Marcus's mood darkened. "Ugh, the Wilkersons. They're kind of...slimy. Like, they're the kind of people that would kill and bury you if they thought they could get away with it, you know what I mean?" he asked.

"Yeah...and you want to go accuse these men of robbery?" Ed replied.

"Yep. This is why I brought back up, and we're both packing. When I approach, you stay a little back, near the car, and cover me. Take your pistol out, but don't, you know, point it at them or anything. Just have it out, pointed at the ground."

"You got it...man, this is nuts. We're dealing with thugs and we've got guns and there's zombies everywhere. Just a week ago we were fucking vacationing in the woods, getting ready to go back to our boring lives!"

"Know what you mean," Marcus replied.

They came around the final curve and approached the Wilkerson's farm. It looked just as old, ugly and weathered as before. If anything, it looked even more rickety now. Marcus drove in between the two big, wooden poles that served as the entryway to their steep front yard and drove right up the dirt path to their front porch.

He spied two people standing on the porch, one of them was Job, the other was a big man with short black hair that he didn't recognize. He didn't look too friendly. He spied a third man moving around in the house and a fourth off to the left, working on a truck parked up half underneath a makeshift garage.

That was Mickey, the other brother.

Marcus killed the engine and they both stepped out. Ed came around the side to join Marcus. He leaned against the door, pistol in hand, pointed at the ground. Marcus began walking slowly up to the porch, his own pistol still tucked.

"Well, if it isn't Marcus," Job said with a smile. He nodded his head briefly to the man standing beside him. The man stared at Marcus and Ed for a second longer, then turned and walked in the farmhouse.

"Hello, Job," Marcus replied evenly.

"What can I do for you?"

"Well...I've got a bit of an awkward conversation I need to have with you."

"Have away, then."

Marcus hesitated for a moment. He was never very good at confrontation. Then he swallowed his fear, picked up his courage and went on ahead with it. "There's been rumors over the radio that some people have been getting robbed."

"Oh, is that so?" Job asked, smiling that damned smile. "And you're the law in this matter, are you now?"

"Not precisely...more like a concerned citizen."

"Well, your concern is noted. But we haven't had any problems ourselves out here. People often don't come out this far."

Marcus hesitated further. He knew that Job must have taken his meaning...but the man wanted him to come right out and say it. Well, so be it. "I don't suppose _you_ would know anything about these robberies would you, Job?"

Job stared at him for a moment, that smile faltering ever so slightly. Finally, he walked down off the porch, towards him. Marcus could hear Ed shift behind him and hoped his friend wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Take a walk with me, will you? And I'll explain how things are around here," he said, then turned towards the makeshift garage where Mickey was hard at work on the battered old truck. He began walking, and Marcus reluctantly followed.

Not a good idea to look weak in front of men like this.

"There's a funny thing about people, Marcus...they don't much like to challenge their assumptions. Me and my brother, we've done very well for ourselves. Especially in light of...recent events. Folks see that and, well...it is in the character of very few men to honor, without envy, a friend who has prospered." He stopped for a moment, about halfway up the path to the makeshift garage, and looked back purposefully at Marcus.

"Aeschylus said that. And an envious man is a man who will spread rumors and lies."

Marcus found himself starting get frustrated with Job's line of conversation. "Right," he said, crossing his arms. "Because _normally,_ gun-running moonshiners are such positive, upstanding citizens, right?" he asked, a little more forcefully than he meant to.

He expected Job to get angry then, but he just laughed. An honest laugh. "We're businessmen, Marcus. Rob a man...and yeah, he'll give you what he's got in his pockets. But if you sell a man what he needs, well...then? Then he'll keep coming back and give you everything he has."

"Uh-huh...did Aeschylus say that, too?"

Job's smile faded a bit. "Here, let's ask Mickey," he said.

He turned and started walking again. Marcus followed. He didn't particularly want to talk to Mickey. Job might be slick and smarmy, like a used car salesman, but Mickey was violent and angry. Not as prone to a reasonable reaction.

"Mickey!" Job called, stopping a little distance away. "Our friend here, Marcus, is curious if we've been stealing from any of our neighbors...seems there's been rumors to that effect."

Mickey glanced up from beneath the hood of the truck he was fixing. He looked at the two of them, then offered a short bark laughter. "Shit, son. If we _was_ stealing from people, you can bet your fucking ass there wouldn't be anyone _left_ to spread no damned rumors!"

"See?" Job said, grinning and shrugging. "Nothing to it, my friend."

Mickey returned his attention to the truck.

Job's features darkened very slightly. "Now why don't you run along, friend Marcus? If we hear anything, I just promise you'll be the first to know." His voice dripped false and mocking sincerity. He offered a big, shit-eating grin.

"Fine," Marcus said.

He turned and marched back over to the jeep. He and Ed climbed in, backed out of the yard and got back on the road towards Spencer's Mill.

"So, how'd it go?" Ed asked.

"Fine...I guess. Everything they said _sounds_ good, makes a lot of sense even. But I don't know. I don't believe them. And those guys they have in the farmhouse...I saw two."

"There was a third, upstairs, I saw him. He had a rifle."

"Great," Marcus muttered.

"Yeah, I was getting worried...now what?" Ed asked.

"Now..." Marcus was stymied for a moment. He was going to say that they should head back to the church, but that didn't quite feel right. And, as he pulled off the dirt road that led away from the Wilkerson's place and caught sight of another farmstead on the opposite side of the road, up a little ways further, inspiration struck.

He began driving towards it.

"Where are we going?" Ed asked.

"The Miller house. There's a group of survivors there. Lily and Maya have them listed as 'cautiously friendly'. I'm going to try and make it more than cautious. More like optimistic."

"Okay...you want me to hold the gun again?"

"No! This time we're going to be nice, diplomatic. Just...shut up and let me do the talking."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

They pulled up slowly and carefully to the house. It was a big, two-story deal with a huge yard, a very large barn/garage and a pair of expensive pickup trucks parked next to the house. He could see people moving around inside.

"Actually, just stay in the car," Marcus said as he killed the engine.

Ed snorted. "You sound like my mom!"

Marcus stuck his tongue out at Ed, then got out of the car. He kept his gun tucked into its holster, kept his hands away from it, and walked slowly up to the house, stopping about twenty feet away from it. After a moment of silence, the front door opened. A matronly blonde woman in a button-down red shirt and jeans, (the first two buttons were undone, revealing a considerable cleavage), walked out onto the porch.

She held a shotgun.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Hello, ma'am," Marcus replied. "My name is Marcus Campbell. I'm from the Church of the Ascension enclave."

"The Church...oh, yes. That young woman Lily operates your radio. I've had many nice conversations with her," the woman replied. "My name is Alice Miller. This is my house. Now, given these dangerous times, I'm a little curious as to why you didn't announce yourself on the radio when you were coming up my driveway."

"Well, Miss Miller, I was hoping to have a conversation that wouldn't be heard over the radio," Marcus replied.

Alice Miller stared at him a moment longer, then her features softened and she slung the shotgun, letting it hang off her shoulder. "Might as well come up onto the porch," she said.

"Thank you, ma'am," Marcus replied.

He walked slowly and carefully up onto the porch, coming to stand arm's length away from Alice. Up close, he could see that she was an older woman, perhaps in her mid to late forties, but she was still very beautiful. And he could just tell by looking into her eyes that she was like Maya: strong, tough, no one to fuck with.

"Now, what is it you'd like to say, Marcus?" she asked.

"I was just down at the Wilkerson's place. I've heard that they've been robbing people, breaking into houses...have you had any problems?"

As soon as he said 'Wilkerson' Alice made a face of disgust. "Ugh, yes. I caught one of their ilk trying to break into my barn just the other night. Damn near got his fool head blown off. And one of ours was out on a run to get some supplies from a field and they tried to run him down! It was pure luck that a horde showed up and confused things enough that he got away. Oh those boys...their father would be rolling over in his grave if he knew what they were up to. So, yes, you can assume we're well-informed on the subject of Job and Mickey Wilkerson." She sighed softly. "Sad to think of Eli, stuck there with them...what?"

She must have noticed the look on his face.

"Eli passed a few days ago, actually," Marcus replied quietly.

Alice shook her head. "Lord, that poor boy..."

"Yeah...well, I came to warn you about the Wilkersons, and also to make an offer. If there's anything you'd like help with, or if you'd like to trade, we're very open to the idea of community and such things."

Alice smiled. "I appreciate the offer. Lily made a similar one. And you're a very respectful young man, Marcus. But I think we're doing quite all right for ourselves here. Thank you for coming out and seeing me personally."

Marcus nodded. He could tell it was time to go.

"You're welcome, ma'am. Good luck with everything."

He turned and made his way back to the jeep.

"So how'd _that_ one go?" Ed asked as they got back on the road and started heading back into Spencer's Mill.

"Okay. A lot more pleasant, at least. Though it amounted to about the same."

"Huh...now what? Home?"

"We've got one more stop to make."

* * *

Marcus pulled into the abandoned parking lot of the Tartan Mart. As he stepped out of his jeep for the third time that day, the reaction was immediate. The door opened up and a tall, well-built black man with a shaved head stepped out. He was holding a pistol. He was doing more than that, he was aiming it at Marcus.

"Go away," he said.

"Wait, please...look, I'm not here to cause problems. I just-"

"Yeah, you just want what? To talk? To have some food? To come in for a minute? I've heard it all since this shit went down, man. You can't come in. You can't have any food. You can't have any water or bullets or gasoline or whatever the fuck you want. What you _can_ do is turn right the hell around and walk away."

"I just want to trade, okay? I've got bullets, guns. I want to trade."

The man hesitated. Marcus caught a bit of movement behind him, someone else. He caught a hint of a woman's face, whispering something in the big guy's ear. He kept an eye on Marcus, but now he seemed to be considering.

He lowered the gun.

"What do you want in return?" he asked, finally.

"Food, maybe some water...I guess it depends on what you've got," Marcus replied.

The man hesitated further, clearly unwilling to give an inch...at least not unless he was getting something in return. "Fine," he said after a long moment. "Go get whatever it is you want to trade, get back here. We'll see what we can work out...and come alone. Lose your friend."

"I...fine," he said.

The man remained standing where he was, and did so until Marcus had got into the jeep and was driving away.

"So, I heard some of that. We're going to trade with them?"

"Yeah...I kind of did this on a whim. I hope Maya doesn't get pissed, but, honestly, I think it makes sense. We need friends. The most valuable asset in this valley is now people. The more people we have on our side, the better. And we can spare the ammo. _And_ we need the food and water," Marcus explained as they drove home.

This was basically the same argument he put to Maya when he told her about the people in the Tartan Mart. At first he could tell that she was frustrated, likely that he'd made a decision and acted on it without her, but finally she nodded.

"Okay," she said. "This is...it'll work. I just...I wish you had said something. Not because I think I'm in charge and I make all the decisions around here, but because if we're really going to work together as a community, we need to talk things through. There might be factors that one of us might not see or fully comprehend that someone else could point out."

"Okay, fair enough. I just...kind of acted on instinct," Marcus replied.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed softly, "here, I'll get you a rucksack with some ammo that we're particularly heavy on."

It took her five minutes to assemble the rucksack. She stood up and handed it to him. "There's three nine millimeter pistols in here with twenty magazines. The pistols are unloaded. See if you can get two rucksacks' worth of food. Given what all these bullets are worth, I think that's fair. We want bottles of water, no other liquids. Canned foods are preferable over all else. And maybe like vitamins, too...are you sure I can't talk you into letting me tag along, maybe hide in that half-built house with a rifle or something?" she asked.

She looked genuinely worried.

"No, that'd be a bad idea. These people are really scared. They've obviously had a lot of bad encounters. We need to build some trust, and...well, sometimes that means going out on a limb. So here I am, going out on a limb, hoping it can hold my weight."

Maya smiled at him, which made him feel weird, so he grabbed the rucksack. Suddenly, before he could turn and leave, she leaned in and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Come back safe, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah...uh, I'll try," he replied.

Because he either couldn't think of anything else to say or was at risk of saying something stupid, Marcus turned and left. He didn't know what to make of the kiss, so he just shoved it out of his mind as he got into the jeep and drove back down to the Tartan Mart. When he got there, the man from before was standing out in the parking lot with his pistol. A pale woman with a stern face stood in the doorway of the Mart.

She also held a pistol.

"Okay, let's see what you've got," the man said.

Marcus nodded as he reached into the jeep and took out the rucksack. He walked forward slowly until the man told him he was close enough. He put the rucksack on the ground and then backed away from it.

As the man came forward and knelt to examine it, Marcus said, "My name is Marcus Campbell."

The man hesitated, then glanced up. "Logan," he replied curtly, then he went back to searching the bag. After a minute, he seemed satisfied and stood up. He turned and made a quick gesture back towards the Tartan Mart. The pale woman standing in the doorway didn't move, but another woman, who was tanned, tall and athletic, walked out. She pushed a shopping cart out. The squeaking of the wheels was loud in the silence.

"Have you had many problems recently...with regular people, I mean," Marcus asked when she came up to him.

Logan said nothing, but the woman, who seemed more amiable, nodded. "Yes, we have. We had a break-in attempt last night."

"What happened?"

"We shot at the bastard, he ran," Logan replied.

Marcus nodded and sorted through the cart. There was a thirty-pack of Tartan Mart brand bottled purified water, about a dozen cans of vegetables, another dozen cans of fruit, two boxes of plain saltine crackers and another dozen cans of assorted things: beans, chicken, corned beef hash and tuna. Marcus thought this looked like about two rucksacks' worth.

"Okay, this all looks good. Uh...thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," the woman replied.

"If you guys find yourself in a jam or you want to trade some more, give us call on the radio. We're not bad people. We'll help if we can," Marcus said.

"I'll take it under advisement," Logan replied.

Well, it was about the same reaction he'd gotten from the other two, but he expected a worse reaction. He began loading up the food and water into the back of jeep. Once it was done, he got in, threw the vehicle into drive and headed home.

What a day.


	20. Chapter 20: On the Hunt

The rest of the day went by peacefully.

The only thing that upset the illusion that they were merely...camping out in an old church, was the occasional sharp crack of a rifle or pistol from whoever was up on the watchtower when a zombie wandered too close to the perimeter. Marcus helped Maya sort through the rest of the ammunition, then went down into the basement with her to make sure the infirmary had been set up appropriately. Once they had moved a few things around, they grabbed some food from the new bounty they had received in the trade and ate outside.

"This is nice," Maya said. "You actually made a great call. You got us food and made us friends. Opened up lines of communication. You know, you've got kind of a knack for this I think. Were you management in your old job?"

"Oh no, not even close," Marcus replied. "Maybe after another five years or so...but, well, that's kind of not even a remote possibility anymore. Given what we're facing."

"Hmm, I don't know. It could just be in the valley and the surrounding area. I mean, the Army _is_ here, quarantining us. So that's gotta mean something. But...eh, who knows? For now, we should simply focus on staying alive. There's just a good a chance as the world ticking along as it always has out there, beyond the valley, as the chances of the other possibility."

Marcus nodded in agreement.

He was eating a can of peaches and a can of tuna with crackers, and washing it down with a bottle of water. Maya was tearing through two cans of green beans like they had personally insulted her. He had to give her credit: even during the zombie apocalypse, he still couldn't stand to eat his greens. Never could, never would.

They finished up their meal and then spent the rest of the night completing the wall repairs and getting the barbed wire into place. Well...honestly, Maya did most of the work, since there was only one pair of good gloves and she was the only one among them who knew what the hell she was doing. Marcus just hung around and offered the occasional hand, but mostly he talked to her. He found himself talking to her about everything: life with Ed, his job, his upbringing, his boyhood summers spent in Trumbull Valley...

Then, just as they were finishing up, it finally began to rain.

The last of the sunshine had disappeared behind the dark, thickening cloud cover and the first light mist of the coming storm began to fall. Marcus and Maya continued eating at the gazebo outside, until they were finished, and then they sat back, content and tired, and enjoyed the rain and the silence for a long while.

Marcus spent much of that time debating whether or not he could actually work up the courage to say something to Maya about this apparent huge crush he'd developed on her ever since meeting her less than a week ago.

Maya saved him the trouble by yawning suddenly and powerfully, then standing up. "Well, I'm going to go to sleep. I imagine we'll have a lot to do tomorrow. You should probably hit the hay as well. We'll both need to be up and ready for another scavenging run."

"Yep, good idea," he replied.

They stood up and made for the tent. Ed occupied the single bed, and apparently they both wanted to sleep outdoors, with the peaceful breeze and the light rain. So, Maya took the top bunk and Marcus took the bottom.

He was asleep in two minutes.

* * *

Marcus woke up bright and early the following day.

The rain had ceased at some point during the night, though the cloud cover lingered, leaving the day still and gray. It didn't bother him. He felt fantastic, clear-headed and ready to face the day. Which was good, because the day turned out to be difficult. Maya was already awake. Marcus got up and grabbed a change of clothes from a small stash of personal items he'd put together and stored in one of the dresser drawers of the outdoors rooms. Each drawer was labeled now. One for him, one for Maya, one for Ed, one for Jacob.

Clothing bundled in his arms, he moved into the main house. He saw no one but Pastor Will, who was preparing to go to sleep. He hesitated when he saw the man, who was standing in the kitchen, downing a bottle of water.

"Are you okay?" Marcus asked.

Will looked very pale and his eyes were bloodshot and sunken. He seemed to have lost a little bit of weight. "Yes," Will managed. "I seem to be under the weather, but...not to worry. I've taken my medicine. I just need a good day's rest."

"Well...okay. Feel better," Marcus said.

"Thank you, my son. I will."

Marcus moved through the bedroom and into the bathroom. The first thing he did was to piss. It was the first thing he always did in the mornings. Then he gargled and spat some Listerine, stripped naked and applied some Axe deodorant, (both the roll-on stuff for his pits and the spray stuff, he'd found both items in one of the houses yesterday). It wasn't a shower, but it would do. He still felt gross after not bathing for so long, and wondered about how they were going to fix that. But it was a problem for later.

He dressed and then, just as he was beginning to leave, something caught his eye. Well, two things, actually. The first was an electric razor, the second was himself, in the mirror. He'd been growing his hair out for close to a year now. He ran his hand across his hair...and suddenly, he wanted to cut it all off. He wasn't sure why, but an idea, something like starting a new chapter in his life, symbolically, flickered through his energized skull and he seized upon it immediately. Yes, new world, new Marcus, new look.

Why not?

So he spent the next five minutes buzz cutting his hair. He hadn't cut his hair so short since high school. When he was finished, he wasn't actually bald, but his hair was so short that he might as well have been. He ran his hand across his stubbly skull, liking the new look. He looked...tougher, more competent, more like a man who might survive the zombie apocalypse. Of course, cutting his hair couldn't really make that much difference in his survival...or could it? He'd read all kinds of crazy stories about moral and survival.

Either way, he felt better.

Marcus left the bathroom and headed back out into the kitchen, where he found Maya scrounging for food. She glanced over at him, preparing to say something, then she stopped, stared at him and he saw a small smile creep across her face.

"Wow," she said.

"What?" he replied, unable to keep from smirking himself.

"I...really like the new look," she said. "A lot."

"Oh...well, uh, thank you," he replied. "You inspired me, with, you know, your own haircut," he added awkwardly.

They had breakfast together and outlined how the day would begin.

From then until noon, (noon didn't look much different outside, the sun was only marginally brighter behind the omnipresent gray cloud cover), they worked on clearing out the two houses that were at the end of the dirt road leading up to the church. Although one of them wasn't really a house, only the wooden, skeletal frame of the house. Nonetheless, they managed to find a fair amount of building materials and all sorts of tools from that work site. The other house turned out to be largely empty, though they did manage to find another set of bunk-beds that they broke down, moved and reassembled in the outdoors area.

It was a tight fit, and they could no longer put anything else in there, but now they had the capacity to bed down a grand total of eleven people altogether. They also found a few gallon containers of gasoline in a shed out back, which Maya was happy to find. She said one of her goals was to eventually find a gas generator. They stored the gas in one corner of the perimeter wall, beneath a tarp. Out of sight and also a safe distance from anything flammable. After clearing these two houses out, they broke for lunch.

They were just getting ready to head back out when the call came through.

"Marcus!" Lily called just as they were heading across the courtyard.

He and Maya stopped in their tracks and turned around. Lily was standing in the doorway. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Need you for something...it's going to take some time," Lily said.

Marcus glanced over at Maya. "Go on, I can go get Jacob or Ed to help out. They should be free," she said.

He nodded, turned and crossed back. Glancing over, he spied Jacob and Pastor Will sitting in the gazebo, talking. Then he was walking up the steps, joining Lily in the main hall of the church. She took a seat at her radio workstation.

"So, the people from the Kirkman place called. They officially want us to help them out with something," she said.

"Oh?" Marcus replied. Not quite what he'd been hoping for since yesterday...mainly because the people at the Kirkman residence were already friendly with them, but hey, trust was trust.

"Yeah. Apparently there's...some kind of weird zombie lurking around the area. They say it's scary and dangerous. They want to hunt it down and they want your help."

" _My_ help...like, specifically? As in, they asked for me by name?"

"Yep."

"Huh..."

He was just about to go when, Lily spoke up again. "So...you and Maya, huh?" she asked.

Marcus was considering how to handle that when, instead of a thought popping into his head, a phrase popped out of his mouth. "So, you and Ed, huh?"

Lily said something, closed her mouth, tried to say something else and failed once more. She was blushing fiercely.

"Shut up," she said finally.

Marcus burst out laughing. "Oh yeah, you've got a _huge_ crush on him," he said.

Lily let out an exasperated sigh, then she looked around and leaned forward. "Marcus...you're his best friend in the whole world. Level with me, is there...I mean, could it work? You know, between us, I mean."

"You know, I think it could. Ed's not a bad guy. And he _is_ single. And, well," he glanced around now too, to make sure they were alone. "Confidentially, he _does_ like you."

"Oh..." she said pleasantly, blushing more. "Uh, thanks."

"Yep. Good luck and have fun," Marcus replied, turning and making his way back out into the courtyard. He wondered if he'd done something good or bad. As he headed for the gate, he suddenly heard someone cut loose with a thick, racking, wet cough. He glanced over and saw Pastor Will now sitting alone in the gazebo. Maya must have taken Jacob.

Pastor Will was the one coughing.

And he looked worse.

Marcus wondered if he should do something, but then he realized there was nothing he _could_ do, and he began walking again. Then he noticed something else. Alan, who stood atop the watchtower once more, (did he ever come down from there?), was staring intently at Will. He was holding his rifle. His eyes weren't kind.

Marcus stopped fully and stared up at him, not comfortable with that look. He kept expecting Alan to look down at him, but he didn't. He just turned away and continued his watch. Reluctantly, Marcus left the church.

* * *

When he showed up at the Kirkman residence this time, the reception was a lot warmer. Tucker greeted him at the door and let him inside. They stood together in a sort of hallway of dark wood that granted access to the rest of the house. From where they stood, Marcus spied a kitchen, three bedrooms and a bathroom. They'd passed Daniel, on guard duty, on the way in, standing atop a pretty large, sturdy wooden box. Brady was in the kitchen, apparently sorting through several open cabinets. Linda and Danica were missing.

"Where's the girls?" Marcus asked.

"In the back bedroom. Danica...isn't doing so well," Tucker replied quietly. "She's...well, she's pretty stressed about this whole thing. She hasn't left the property once since we set up shop here. At first she was going through withdrawal, you know, from the booze, but now? I think depression has her bad. I'm not too sure what's going to happen. Linda's back there talking to her, making sure she's eating and drinking right and everything."

At that, the back bedroom door, which had been mostly closed, opened up, and Linda stepped out. She was carrying a shotgun. She closed the door quietly behind her and joined them in the main hall. "Okay, I'm ready to go. You two packing?" she asked.

"Yep," Marcus replied, patting his holster. He still had his M9 and a pair of magazines for it.

"I'm good," Tucker said. He had a big, silver six-shooter that looked exceptionally powerful. They made their way out of the house and back onto the street.

"So...what, exactly, is this thing we're hunting?" Marcus asked as they started walking to the right, towards the Tartan Mart.

"It's a zombie," Linda replied. "But not a normal one."

"What did it look like?" Marcus asked. "Was it like, huge and fat?"

"No," Linda said, shaking her head. "It was like...greenish-yellow, and it moved kind of low to the ground, on all fours. I've only ever seen it from a distance, but it looks like it's got a big head and long arms, longer than normal."

"Ugh...creepy," Marcus muttered.

"Yeah. It just seems...dangerous. Like, really dangerous, more so than the others."

Marcus considered this as they approached the Tartan Mart, (he realized that that was, in fact, their destination), then a thought crossed his mind. "Have you guys encountered any other weird types of zombies around?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Tucker replied. "Why?"

"I've encountered a few ones that weren't just normal zombies or weird looking people who had been turned into zombies. One of them was like...huge. I mean like eight or nine feet tall, and fat. Built like a damn soda machine, you know what I mean? And then there was that armless one we encountered at the gunshop, the one that screamed its head off?"

"Yeah...I've been thinking about that," Linda said. "I mentioned it to my brother, and he started talking about this video game he used to play a few years ago. It was called Left For Dead. It was a zombie shooter, and they had lots of regular zombies...but they also had what they called Specials. Zombies that had mutated to have special abilities. I'm beginning to wonder if we might be finding ourselves in a similar situation."

"God, I'd hate to think that there's more than one of these freaks we're hunting running around," Tucker replied.

They came to stand in the lot of the Tartan Mart. After a moment, the door opened and Logan came out. His body language was slightly less tense than it had been during their previous encounter, Marcus noticed.

"I saw it," he said. Apparently he and Linda or Tucker had had a conversation about this whole thing over the radio, Marcus imagined. "Maybe ten minutes ago. It went by the lot, down into the field out back."

"Thanks...any chance of some help?" Linda replied.

Logan shook his head. "I'm afraid not." At least he no longer sounded outright hostile.

"Thanks anyway," Tucker said.

Logan nodded and went back into the Tartan Mart. The trio moved past the vacant lot, around some inert shipping containers stacked next to the structure, (something Marcus found odd and out of place), and found themselves standing at the head of a dirt incline that led into a vast farmer's field. It seemed to encompass miles of open space.

"Well," Tucker said after a moment. "Not many places to hide."

Marcus nodded. They spied movement across the field: random collections of the undead in ones or twos, but nothing that seemed particularly out of the ordinary. There were three or four areas where something might conceivably be hiding behind. There was a small water tower, an abandoned truck, two big stacks of crates...

They began heading for the truck first.

"Everyone ready?" Linda asked.

Both Marcus and Tucker responded affirmatively. They set off down the dirt incline. It was steep, but not so steep that they couldn't get down it without too much trouble. A cold wind blew across the field as they got onto level ground and began making for the truck. Marcus was glad for the previous nights' rain, otherwise there'd be a lot of dust to contend with. He kept his attention focused, listening for anything as they approached the truck. Once they were within range of it, he began to move around one side while Tucker moved around the other. Linda stayed behind, shotgun aimed and ready for anything.

They continued circling the truck until they had a clear view of the other side.

Nothing waited for them.

"All right," Tucker began, "how about we-"

A loud roar cut him off. Behind Tucker, about fifty feet away, where one of the stacks of crates was, he suddenly spied movement. A yellow-green blur shot out from the shadow of the crates and began rushing towards the other survivor. Marcus shouted something, an inarticulate warning, and took aim, but he couldn't get over how _fast_ it was moving. The thing was indeed running on all fours. Only, no...not running, it was _racing_ towards them with all the power and determination of a lion that had spotted easy prey.

All three of them opened fire.

Not a single one of them hit it.

When it was ten feet away, the thing abruptly launched itself through the air. Tucker screamed in pure, primal panic as it landed on top of him. Marcus felt like his heart was going to explode, he had no idea what to do. He couldn't get a clear shot without risking hitting Tucker. Suddenly, Linda raced past him, something in her hand. She ran forward and hit the thing on the back. It let out a roar, turned and took a swipe at her with one long arm, sending her flying back and smashing into the truck. She let out a pained cry.

Marcus finally found himself again and began running forward, determined to do something. Good thing, too, because when the freak zombie hit Linda, it gave Tucker the opportunity to bring his legs up, plant them firmly against its stomach and shove it off of him with all his might. Neither Tucker nor Linda were in any position to actually attack the beast, which had landed on its back a few feet away but was already getting up.

So Marcus raced forward, aimed his pistol and emptied the whole magazine into it. Most of the shots hit its chest, but three of them smashed its head into pieces. The enormous, muscular beast flopped back dead onto the ground in a nasty pool of blood. For a long moment, nobody spoke, only the sound of the cold winds could be heard. Then Tucker groaned, and so did Linda. Marcus spun around. Both were on their backs.

"Shit," he muttered.

He hurried over first to Tucker, checking him over, finding only a few scrapes and scratches, only one that was bleeding very badly. He remembered his medical kit, shrugged out of his pack, opened it up and fished out the kit.

"Here," he said.

"I'll do it," Tucker grunted. "Go check on Linda."

Reluctantly, Marcus stood and crossed over to Linda, leaving Tucker to cleanse and bandage his own wounds. Linda was still lying on her back, gasping for breath. Marcus began to help her up, but she waved him off.

"Just...need...a moment..." she gasped. "Get my...breath back..."

A few moments passed and Marcus' fear that one of her lungs might have collapsed or she might have broken her ribs and it had punctured a lung slowly abated. Her breathing returned to normal and slowly, painfully, she allowed Marcus to help her stand.

"Tucker?" she whispered, stepping a few cautious steps forward.

"Fine," he grunted, then groaned as he splashed some disinfectant across a nasty wound he'd sustained on his elbow. "Just some scrapes and scratches...god _damn_ that thing was a mean motherfucker," he replied. "You okay?"

"Yeah...I was so worried my ribs might've been broken, but they seem okay now. They just ache like a _bitch,_ " Linda replied. "Got the damned wind knocked out of me..."

As Tucker finished up and stood, they all looked at the corpse of the thing they had killed. Slowly, they walked over to it.

"Do you think there'll be more?" Marcus asked after a long moment of silence.

"God I hope not," Linda whispered.

Finally, Tucker turned away. "Come on, we really should get back."

The trio began walking away, out of the field, back towards what remained of civilization.

* * *

Marcus helped Linda and Tucker, (who were leaning on each other the whole way back,) get back to their enclave. He sat with them until Brady went to wake Danica from her fitful sleep, so she could come out and check them over. Once they assured him that they would be fine and thanked him for his help, he left and went back to the church. On the way back, he realized that something was bugging him. At first he thought it was just leftover adrenaline from the attack, but as he walked up the dirt incline, he realized it had been bugging him all day, ever since early morning. For a long moment, he couldn't figure out what it was.

Then, as he pushed open the iron gate and surveyed the area, it hit him.

He hadn't seen Sam once today. Marcus had sort of made it an unofficial policy with himself to count noses each morning as he rose, and today he'd been too distracted. He spent the next five minutes searching the church grounds, and came up empty.

"Looking for someone, my son?"

He turned and saw Will sitting at the gazebo, drinking from a bottle of water. He still didn't look any better.

"Uh...yeah. Sam, I can't find her. I haven't seen her all day," he replied.

Pastor Will nodded slowly. "Yes. She left early this morning. I tried to stop her but...well, stopping Sam would be like trying to stop a bulldozer with your hand."

Marcus felt a pang of panic. He supposed she could go off on her own if she wanted but it couldn't be safe, or a good idea. "Do you have any idea where she might be?"

Will nodded and took another deep drink of water. "Yes. I believe she might have gone to her old stomping grounds."

Marcus took a seat across from Will and pulled out his map. He folded it out on the table between them. "Old stomping grounds?"

"Yes..." He studied the map with his bloodshot eyes. "Here," he said, pointing. "It's a self storage unit. They used to donate one of their unused units twice a month as a soup kitchen for the homeless. It was a program set up with the church. We had a soup kitchen twice a month here, as well. I believe it was a tax write off..." He shrugged. "For whatever reason, I believe she will be there."

"All right, thanks. I'm going to go try and find her. She shouldn't be on her own," Marcus said, folding the map back up and pocketing it.

"I could say the same for you, my son."

"Yeah...tell the others where I've gone. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Will nodded and watched him go. Marcus hoped for the best as he headed out of the church once more.

* * *

He found the self-storage building without too much trouble. It was a low, rectangular white square near the edge of Spencer's Mill, fenced off from the world. There were six garage-style doors and all but one of them were still closed. Marcus walked slowly through the opening in the fence. It was dark in the storage unit, the thin gray sunlight from above not quite penetrating the shadows of the interior. He could at least tell that there was someone, or some _thing_ , inside the storage unit, crouching. He stopped a good distance away.

"Who goes there?" he asked.

There was a pause, and he had just started to get worried, when he heard, "it's just me."

It was Sam.

Marcus let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god," he muttered. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Looking for Andy Pimms," she murmured.

"Who's that?"

She sighed and remained crouched. "He was this...old, homeless guy. He used to come into the soup kitchen every time, and I saw him around town a lot. We talked...I dunno, made a connection, maybe. I guess...I guess I was just looking for some remnant of my old life. All of this stuff is nuts and I kind of feel like, you know, I'm adrift at sea. I thought I was going nuts or something and if I could just find one thing..." she sighed again.

He realized, all at once, that she was crouching over a corpse.

"He was a zombie, wasn't he?" Marcus asked softly.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. He was. I figured he'd come here, you know, memories of the past life and all that...but I realized that that's not what I was coming to do. I wasn't coming to reconnect with my old life...I was coming to severe it. I killed him. I killed Andy. And, it was like...a release. Like, 'Yeah, I can really start this new life. I can say goodbye to the old one.' You know what I mean? Does that make any sense?"

Now she actually looked over at him.

Marcus nodded slowly. "Yeah, it does. A lot, actually."

Sam stood up and walked back out into the gray sunlight. "Thanks. For coming out here and finding me. Sorry for, you know, running off." She chuckled. "I'm ready to go home."

"All right, come on."

They started walking back.


	21. Chapter 21: Midnight Terror

"Marcus? _Marcus, get up right now!_ "

Marcus gasped awake. He'd been having a nightmare, the first one he could remember since all this crap started. He was running through the blackened city streets of his hometown. Burning skyscrapers lit the night sky like funeral pyres. The dead were everywhere. They were coming for him. Reaching for him with cold, clammy hands and glowing yellow eyes...

He looked around, trying to get his bearings. It was night and the moon was out, casting a ghostly silver half-light across the world. Maya was standing over him, the terror plain on her face. Behind her, he saw someone else, Jacob, getting dressed. Ed was stirring in the other bunk.

"What...what's going on?" he gasped, badly frightening, the nightmare still wrapped around him like a shroud.

"We just got a distress call from the enclave down the street, at the Kirkman residence," she said. Her voice was shaking, he realized she was just as frightened, but she was holding onto herself, and that gave him some strength of his own.

He sat up. "What kind of call? I mean, what's happening?" he asked, throwing the blankets back. He'd gone to bed in the bottom bunk of the outdoors tent after getting Sam home and having dinner with everyone else. She'd told them stories about Andy Pimm.

"Zombies," she whispered.

"I'm ready," Jacob said.

"You need to get Ed up," Maya said. "I need to make sure we've got our guns."

Marcus turned, reached up under his pillow and pulled out his M9. "I've gone mine," he said and he stood up.

"Good, get Ed up, we're going," Maya replied.

Marcus hastily grabbed his holster and reattached it to his belt. He was extremely glad that he had gone to bed fully clothed that night, including his shoes. He wasn't sure why at the time, but he just had a bad feeling, a shiver of cold paranoia, that made him want to be ready to leap up at a moment's notice. And it had paid off, apparently.

"Ed, come on, get up," Marcus said, shaking him.

"I'm up, I'm up," Ed mumbled. He was terrible at getting up in the mornings. Marcus pulled the blankets back and Ed groaned.

"Ed, people are _dying!_ " Marcus snapped.

That got him moving. "What?!" he cried, sitting up and banging his head on the top bunk. "Shit!" he snapped.

"Quiet, you two!" Jacob snapped.

"The people at the Kirkman place, they're in trouble!" Marcus hissed.

"Okay, okay..." Ed hurried up. He, too, had gone to bed mostly dressed, though Marcus wasn't sure if this was a side effect of sleeping in a public place or sleeping outside. All he had to do was slip on his shoes and he was good to go.

Soon, the four of them emerged from the big tent, each of them toting pistols and backpacks, ready to head into the darkness.

Lily stood by the front gate. Overhead, Sam sat in the watchtower.

"Please be careful," Lily said, looking worried and disheveled. "I don't know how bad it is, but it sounded bad."

"They're definitely shooting up a storm down there," Sam said.

"Where's Pastor Will?" Marcus asked. "Isn't it his watch?"

"He's too sick," Lily replied, just as worried about that, too.

"Marcus, come on!" Maya hissed.

No time to worry about that now, no time for anything. He said quick goodbyes to both women and hurried out of the gate after Maya, Ed and Jacob. Maya and Jacob both had flashlights, which they used to guide their way down the dirt path. They managed to make it through the backyard of the nearest house, down their driveway and onto the road before they encountered the undead. But they had an advantage.

There were about six of them up ahead, walking away from them, towards the sounds of the gunfire. There were a lot of gunshots. He heard the high bangs of pistol fire and the occasional, low boom of a shotgun blast. In the ghostly moonlight, Marcus spied a good dozen zombies even further down the road, climbing over the privacy wall surrounding the Kirkman residence. This was bad. This was a fucking nightmare.

As one, the four of them raised their pistols and made quick work the half dozen zombies they had come upon. Without a word, the quartet hurried down the rest of the way. Marcus and Maya took the charge, opening fire on those few zombies who hadn't made it over the wall yet, while Ed and Jacob turned around, sweeping the area behind them and to their sides, as there were even _more_ zombies being drawn in by the noise.

For a moment, there was nothing but the gunfire. The world was reduced to still shots, single frames painted in stark black and white by the blinding flash of the muzzles. Marcus put a round through the eye of a young woman in a waitress's uniform, saw her head snap back as she sank to her knees, blood and brains flying into the night air in a thick spray. Shaking from adrenaline and terror, he adjusted his aim and put down a man in hunting gear, a large, dark hole appearing on his forehead. He listened to the others fire around him.

It took about three minutes, but they managed to at least stem the tide of zombies and stop any more from actually entering the property. Marcus felt the press of time as he slapped a fresh magazine into his pistol, (he was so glad that he'd forgotten to take it out of his pocket, even if his hip hurt now from sleeping on it.)

"Let's go!" Maya shouted. "Handheld weapons out! We don't want to hit any friendlies!"

Marcus nodded, holstered his pistol and pulled out his trusty crowbar. How many zombies had he put down with this thing? At least a few dozen by now. He was first through the gate, which was open. They passed the large crate that Daniel liked to stand guard on in his Korn shirt. The post was vacant. There were bodies in the front yard. The windows that led into the living room were shattered. A heap of bodies writhed around inside.

Someone was screaming.

Marcus jumped in through the broken window, hardly feeling it as a shard of glass still stuck in the window frame cut into his leg. He raised his crowbar, and then stared in horror, frozen where he stood, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

Daniel lay on the floor of the kitchen, being literally torn apart by zombies. One had grabbed his arm and ripped it off. Another two were eating his leg, rending it into chewed up meat. Yet another one had torn his stomach open. His guts, foamy and bright red and purple in the harsh, bleak light of the flashlights, had fallen out. The zombie grabbed a handful and brought it up to its mouth, chowing down.

And, through all this, Daniel was screaming.

Suddenly, a gunshot sounded and a hole appeared in his head.

Marcus snapped his gaze over to the source of the gunshot, which had broken him from his stupor. It was Maya. She had killed the poor bastard. The zombies all heard the gunshot and let out a collective roar. They began to rise, turning, reaching for the newcomers. Marcus felt a fury, a bloodlust unlike anything he had ever felt before, settle over him. He raised the crowbar and brought it around in a tight arc, crushing the skull of the nearest zombie. Before that undead horror even fell back, he was bringing the crowbar down on the skull of another.

The world seemed to kind of go away after that.

When it came back, he was breathing heavily, sitting on the floor, in a great deal of pain. The muscles in his arms burned. Maya was standing over him.

"Marcus...Marcus, are you okay?" she asked, genuine worry in her voice.

"I...yeah...I..." he coughed. "I'm not sure what happened."

"You kind of went berserk there. You killed a lot of zombies..." She hesitated, looked away for a moment. "Marcus, I don't think anyone made it."

He looked up at her, startled. "What?"

"We found almost everyone...they're all dead. The zombies got in and..." She shook her head, paused, opened her mouth to say something.

Then, from somewhere deeper in the house, Marcus heard Jacob called out: "We've got a live one over here!"

Both of them shot to their feet. They hurried through the wrecked and ruined house, over the corpses of the fallen, and found Ed standing in the doorway of the back bedroom. Marcus had a momentary flash to the last time he was here, (was that just yesterday?), when he'd seen Linda step out of this very door.

Marcus pushed his way gently passed Ed, who seemed to be in shock and let himself be pushed softly to the side. The bedroom looked oddly untouched. In the bed lay an unmoving form. Jacob was crouching down next to the bed. At first, he took the body in the bed as a corpse, but then it came to him that it wasn't.

It was Danica, the damaged paramedic from New York. She was still alive. Her eyes were open and she was breathing...but she wasn't responding at all to Jacob's soft inquiries. There was a bit of blood on her, but she didn't seem all that torn up.

"We have to get her out of here," Maya whispered.

"She won't say anything," Jacob replied.

"We'll help her up," Maya said, tucking her pistol. "But we need to _go._ Marcus, get on the radio, try to find Doc Hanson."

"Okay," Marcus replied.

Jacob and Maya took on the task of getting Danica up out of bed while Ed stood guard and Marcus pulled out his radio. He spent about five minutes on it, trying to raise Doc Hanson, before he finally got a call back.

" _Ugh...yeah, this is Hanson, come back."_

"Oh, Doc, thank god. We need your help. Can you come to the church right away?" Marcus replied. He saw that Jacob and Maya had actually got her up and standing, but she still seemed to be in her stupor. They all began to head out of the broken house.

" _Uh...yeah. Yeah, I'll be there in about ten minutes. What's going on?"_ he asked.

Marcus gave a quick outline of the events that had occurred. Doc Hanson was silent for a long moment. _"Good lord,"_ he said finally. _"I'm coming."_

Marcus thanked him and then helped Ed guard Maya and Jacob while they guided Danica out of the house and onto the street.

They started heading back to the church.

* * *

They managed to get Danica back to the church without any real trouble. She didn't say anything the entire time but she didn't stop them from guiding her, either. They brought her down to the basement infirmary and had her lay out on one of the beds there. At this point, everyone but Pastor Will was awake. Alan joined them down in the infirmary.

"Everyone else is dead?" he asked.

"Yes, Alan," Maya replied dully.

"Jesus, this is what fucking happens when you get sloppy and you stop paying attention to the world around you-"

"God, shut the fuck up Alan!" Lily cried.

"Don't talk to me like that you-"

"Alan, go back to bed," Maya said coldly, staring at him.

"Now," Marcus added.

Alan stared at them all for a long moment, everyone but Sam had come downstairs into the basement infirmary, she had stayed in the tower, keeping watch. Then he turned and marched up the stairs without a word.

"God, I can't believe they're all gone," Lily whispered. She looked pale and horrified, stricken with grief and fear.

"Yeah. I..." Marcus couldn't think of anything to say. All he kept seeing was Daniel and his guts being pulled out like a party favor, foamy and purple...

A moment later, heavy footfalls sounded on the wooden stairs leading down to the infirmary. Everyone turned and saw Doc Hanson, looking weary but still tough as nails, carrying his black doctor's bag. He walked silently over to the bed where Danica lay, and the others parted for him like the Red Sea.

Over the next five minutes, he examined her, and, at one point, told everyone else to leave, that they both needed some privacy. Marcus imagined he was going to examine the rest of her, to make sure she wasn't bit or cut. They all left without argument. As he began climbing the stairs, he winced in pain as a lance of agony shot up his leg.

"You okay, Marcus?" Maya asked as the others broke away from them and headed back to the church.

"Yeah...my leg..." he replied, staring down at it. It was still bleeding.

"Shit," Maya whispered. "Come on, we need to get that fixed up."

She took him back to the makeshift bedroom and rooted around in her stuff until she came up with a portable medical kit.

"Take off your pants," she said.

He did, too tired and worn out to feel awkward. Then he sat down on one of the beds and winced as she examined the wound. "Well, I've had some basic first aid training. This isn't too bad. I can patch you up," she said.

He nodded his ascent and winced again as she set to work. She cleaned out the wound with some particularly painful antiseptic, then gave him a little shot that slowly made the area go numb. "Probably shoulda done that first," she mumbled.

"Gee, thanks," Marcus replied.

She laughed and then began bandaging the wound. "There," she said once she was finished. "We'll check it in the morning, but it looked like it was clotting fine."

They both glanced over as Doc Hanson walked slowly along the side of the church. Marcus pulled his pants back on.

"How is she?" Maya asked.

"Physically? She'll be okay. A few scrapes and bruises. Mentally, though..." he sighed and shook his head. "From what I recall, she was already a bit fragile. I came across her a few times, since we're both in the same field. She drank a lot, saw a lot of nasty things in the big city...Lily has agreed to stay down there with her. She's cleaning her up right now, putting a new change of clothes on her. She's in a state of shock. She _should_ come out of it by tomorrow or so...I hope. It's hard to tell. Even though she was fragile, she was tough, too. I do remember that.

"Now, I've got to go. I got another call. Someone's sick with something...I think it's the same thing Will has. I took a moment to check in on him. He's not doing so hot. Keep an eye on him, huh? I think there's something going around."

"Yeah, sure, Doc. Thanks for coming," Marcus replied.

"All in a day's work...or night's work, I guess," Hanson replied.

Then he was gone, leaving through the front gate, closing it firmly behind him and getting into his truck. They listened to the motor rev and then disappear. Marcus felt like it was time to go back to sleep. Already, Jacob and Ed had climbed back into their bunks. They had been mercifully delivered back to the land of slumber. He felt tired...but he also felt like he was on the verge of freaking out or something.

He looked over at Maya.

She seemed lost as well.

"Maya. Would it-would it be too much to ask...nevermind."

"No, what is it?" Maya asked, turning fully to face him.

"I don't want to come off as weird or anything, but could you lay in my bed with me, just for a bit? I just...I feel like I'm going to break down or something and, I don't know, even simple human contact feels like it might go a long way towards helping me not lose it."

"I...yeah, I'm kind of feeling that myself. I know what it feels like, Marcus. I saw a lot of nasty combat over in Afghanistan. Yeah, it's fine," she said.

"Thank you," he replied, breathing a sigh of relief.

This time, he kicked off his shoes, and shrugged out his backpack. After setting it down, he stuck the M9 under his pillow and laid down on the bed, beneath the blanket. The night had gotten colder. Maya got into the bed with him, beneath the blankets as well. He lay facing her and she wrapped her arms around him. Almost as soon as she did, he hugged her back and began to cry. It surprised him as much as the wake up call had a little over an hour ago. He managed to keep quiet, sobbing almost silently against her shoulder.

"It's okay," Maya whispered. "It's okay. I'm sorry, Marcus. I'm so sorry. I know how it feels. Just let it out," she said quietly.

He cried for nearly five minutes, hugging her fiercely. When he was finished, he suddenly felt a lot better. He was still scared, still disgusted, still horrified...but all of it felt far away and distant. Marcus supposed that he had hit an emotional dump valve, momentarily emptying himself out. He pulled his head back, took a deep breath and let it out. Then he sniffed and let it out a short laugh when he saw the wet spot on Maya's shirt.

"Oh man, I'm sorry," he said.

Maya laughed. "It's okay," she replied.

Marcus tried to say something else, but then he suddenly yawned, a big one, and lethargy came down like a hammer.

"Me too," Maya said, yawning. "Go to sleep."

"I...okay."

He rested his head on the pillow, and Maya rolled over and pushed herself against him. Cautiously, he put an arm around her. She didn't react poorly to it. She put her own arm over his. He felt comfortable and calm.

He began drifting off to sleep.


	22. Chapter 22: The Cold Light of Day

Marcus came awake slowly.

He was immensely warm, immensely comfortable. Waking up and moving around were the last things on his mind. Then he realized that he was lying against someone. There was someone in the bed with him. Someone slim and curvy who smelled good. Not good in the way that loads of shampoo and perfume made you smell, but good in a natural kind of way. About the same time that he remembered that it was Maya and everything that had happened last night, Marcus realized that he had his arm around her and he was snuggled up against her. He slowly, carefully began to disengage himself from her, but suddenly she grabbed his arm.

"Don't move," she murmured sleepily. "You're warm and comfortable."

"Oh...okay then," he replied.

They continued laying there for a moment, Marcus feeling an odd mixture of comfort, arousal and awkwardness. Suddenly, Maya shifted and heaved a sigh. "Oh great," she muttered.

"What? What's wrong?" Marcus asked.

"I just had a really clear thought. Everything we said last night...it was over the radio. So a lot of people out there probably know that the Kirkman residence is up for grabs, and we _need_ that supplies if we're going to last longer than two weeks." She sat up abruptly. "Come on, it's probably still early. We need to get there before anyone else does."

"Great," Marcus muttered.

They both got up out of bed. It still was early, probably around seven in the morning. Marcus was grateful that he was in good shape with a good sleep schedule. It meant he could hop up at a moment's notice in the early morning without suffering too much. He was still sleepy, but he could already feel it disappearing as he pulled his shoes on and grabbed his holster. He slipped his pistol into it and glanced over: Ed and Jacob were still asleep.

"Go grab breakfast, I'll get these two up," he said.

"Thanks," Maya replied.

She finished getting her own gear together and walked out of the tent. Marcus watched her go. He'd been worried that she would act all awkward and strange around him their sharing a bed together, but she didn't seem the slightest bit put off. What did that mean? Did it mean she was just extremely confident in herself and her emotions? That she was good at hiding them? Or that she had enjoyed the experience? What if it was just no big deal?

Marcus shook his head. He was being an idiot. Who cared? They had more important things to do. He set about waking the two guys up. Jacob was up pretty quick, but Ed, again, took a lot of coaxing. Finally, as soon as the two men were actually out of bed, standing upright and moving around, Marcus left them to it, moving across the yard to join Maya in the kitchen. The sun was up, but the cloud cover persisted, painting the day and the landscape in shades of miserable gray. He supposed it was appropriate, given what had happened.

He wondered how Danica was doing.

Marcus marched up the back steps and came into the kitchen. He found Maya and Sam eating out of cans, talking quietly. He nodded to them, crossed the room and scrounged around until he came up with a fruit cup, a bottle of water and a Nutigrain Bar. As he started eating, Jacob and Ed came into the room, followed shortly by Lily, who looked exhausted.

"How is she?" Maya asked.

"She's better now. It wasn't as bad as we thought, thank god...she's still pretty shaken up, pretty upset, but she's coherent and she understands what's happened, and that she's safe. I don't really think we need a whole town meeting over it but...I'm guessing we'll accept her into our enclave?" she asked, staring at them all.

"Yeah," Maya said.

The others were nodding.

Lily let out a short breath. "Good...now, I need a nap, just for an hour or two. I spent the whole night with her and I didn't sleep too much."

"I'll check in on her," Sam said.

Lily thanked her and headed outside, to where the others had been sleeping not too long ago. They all finished up their breakfast, then made their way through the church, briefly stopping by what Maya had started referring to as the 'loadout bay': a table, a metal cabinet and some shelves stuck into one corner of the main room in the church that held guns, ammo, some medical supplies, food, water, backpacks, spare clothes, melee weapons and anything else someone might need if they were heading out into the city.

Once they had what they needed, the quartet headed out.

* * *

Almost as soon as they got to the house and began searching it, they found evidence that someone had been through. But it quickly became apparent that whoever had done it had been a small group, perhaps three at the most. They were likely scavengers, not very well organized, just taking what they could grab. While that meant that some of the choice gear was missing, it also meant that the majority of the house hadn't been strip-mined. Which was good for a group that was looking to survive this thing for the long haul.

It was difficult being there. The cold, gray light of day showed all the horrors that the night had at least partially hidden. Marcus felt his stomach turn over slowly as he stared at the ripped apart remains of the very people he had laughed and talked with not but a day ago. They were dead. Plain and simple as that. Dead. Gone. Forever.

How could handle that?

Before this, the closest brush with death Marcus had endured was when his aunt had gotten lung cancer and died within a few months. It had been painful and had left him with a few new emotional scars, but he was fundamentally okay. But this? How could he go on from this? For that matter, how could Danica? She had lived with these people, called them friends, maybe even family...how would she ever be okay?

Maybe there _was_ no okay...

Maybe the only way to go on, was to just go on, regardless of how you felt.

Numbly, Marcus helped the group pick through the wreckage. It was an ugly, grizzly task that took a good four hours. Unfortunately, given the fact that their community had grown, and likely would continue to grow, they didn't have the luxury of doing a lazy job. They searched the house top to bottom, packing ever bottle of water, every tube of pills, every blanket and change of clothes and every last bullet away into the back of the jeep they'd driven down for the job. Not long before they finished up, Lily called them on the radio.

"What's up, Lily?" Marcus asked.

He leaned against the front of the privacy wall, watching Maya, Jacob and Ed finished loading up the last of the gear into the back of the jeep.

" _The people down at the Tartan Mart, they're asking for help. One of their people hasn't reported back and they're worried about leaving the Mart unattended,"_ Lily replied.

"Got it. We'll go see them," Marcus replied. He explained the situation to Maya, who seemed to consider it for a moment, then turned and began rifling through the back of the jeep. She spent a few moments shoving several things into a duffel bag: a few magazines of ammo, some bottles of water and several medical items.

"You two head on back, get this unloaded," Maya said. "Marcus and I will take care of the people at the Mart."

"You got it," Jacob replied. He and Ed climbed into the jeep and began driving it back up to the church.

Marcus and Maya set off down the road. "What's that?" he asked.

"Peace offering," Maya replied. "Last night got me thinking. It's extremely dangerous in this valley. I think we've been lulling ourselves into a false sense of security. I mean, those people were pretty well fortified, they'd been surviving for weeks. They weren't low on supplies, they had plenty of ammo...and yet all but one of them died. Just like that. We need more discipline, more people, more supplies, if we're going to wait this thing out."

"How long should we wait?" Marcus replied.

"What do you mean? Before we give up and die?" Maya asked.

Marcus snorted. "No! I mean, before we try to escape the valley, figure out if this is a bigger problem or if it's contained to the valley."

"I don't know, not for a while, not until I can pry some answers out of the Army...which won't be easy, especially with what they've been saying over the radio lately..."

Marcus nodded. The Army had been releasing a series of statements over the airwaves ranging from disheartening to downright threatening, essentially advising people to 'lock their doors and wait for this to blow over'.

They came to the parking lot of the Tartan Mart and stood a respectful distance away. The door opened and Logan stepped out, looking worried. "Thanks for coming," he said. "I saw another one of those freaks wandering around, the big one with the long arms...I didn't want to leave the place unguarded or even only one of us here."

"Who's missing and where did they go?" Marcus replied.

"Sophie. She went to that partially constructed house, across the way...I think it's at the end of the road that leads up to your church. Our roof leaks and she thought she could grab some supplies to fix it. She left about half an hour ago. We received a call on the radio that she had made it there, but she hasn't said anything since."

"Don't worry, we'll find her," Maya said. "Also...here." She passed him the bag. He took it and looked inside.

"What's all this for?" he asked, suspicion leaking into his voice.

"Peace offering," Maya replied. "I don't know if you know but...the Kirkman enclave went down last night. Everyone but Danica is dead...all killed by zombies."

"Jesus...we heard all the commotion, but..." he didn't seem to have anything to say beyond that. _But we were too scared to come out_ didn't sound like something worth saying. Maya simply nodded. "I understand. Listen...it's getting more dangerous in the valley. We really need to band together, pool our resources. Will you join us at the church?"

Logan stared at her for a moment, really seeming to consider it. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "It's just better this way. It's better not to rely on anyone else...I know that sounds callous and that's a huge hypocrisy, given what I'm asking here, and I do really appreciate the offering and the help, really, and I'm open to working with you guys...just not leaving the Mart."

"Well...fair enough. We'll be back," Maya said.

Logan thanked them again. They turned and began making their way down the street, moving quick and quiet to avoid the wandering zombies.

"It doesn't make any sense," Marcus said.

"I know. It doesn't have to. They're just too frightened to make any kind of decision, even they probably don't know why they don't want to leave. It's the fear instinct. Until something worse happens and forces their hand, they'll stay there," Maya replied. "And it's too bad they didn't talk to us about that house. We already cleared it out for supplies, so she probably won't find much there. Although I wasn't actually looking for roofing gear, so hey, who knows?"

They managed to get up the road and down the next one without too much trouble. As soon as they were in sight of the skeletal house, they saw the trouble: Sophie was combating a horde of zombies. Marcus and Maya took off running, racing across the street, up the yard and into the house via a hole in the side.

Marcus let his crowbar fly, caving in the back of the head of the nearest zombie. Maya was equally vicious, cracking the skull of a man in overalls and boots. It took the three of them several minutes to kill all the zombies that had wandered in. When the last body fell, Sophie nearly collapsed from exhaustion. She sat down in a nearby folding chair, trying to catch her breath. Marcus and Maya kept a vigil while she did.

"Thanks," she breathed, taking a water bottle from her pack and killing half of it in one go. "I thought I'd bought it."

"Looks like you damn near did," Maya replied. "Your friends got worried about you."

"Yeah, they tend to do that," Sophie replied. She sighed and, after another moment of catching her breath, stood up. "Thanks again for the rescue. I was wondering, would you mind helping me get some stuff back?"

"Yeah, sure," Maya replied.

They started helping her get the roofing materials into a pair of rucksacks.


	23. Chapter 23: Trouble At Home

When Marcus got home, the day was still relatively young.

Which was good, because as soon as he walked into the main room of the church with Maya, he heard a shouting match in progress.

"You want to run away... _again!_ I _cannot_ believe you!"

"Come on, Lil...that's not fair."

"You're right, it's _not_ fair. We've built a home here and you want to abandon it because things are looking tough!"

"That's _not_ what I said, Lily."

Marcus and Maya lingered in the small antechamber to the church. Marcus stepped forward. "What's going on?" he asked.

They both glanced over, suddenly aware that their argument had drawn company. Lily folded her arms, looking pissed. Jacob seemed hesitant, but resolute. "I was just suggesting that we, you know, scope out a new place to live...just in case. We're getting cramped in here and hey, more people might be showing up at any moment. And, to be honest, there are better places to hole up and wait out the zombie apocalypse. And, I mean, think about it, this city has been picked over for almost three weeks now...how long before everything there is to find has been found? Spencer's Mill is small, but Marshall is pretty big."

Marcus glanced over at Maya, she was slowly nodding her head. "We shouldn't jump to any decisions yet, but...it _would_ be a good idea to scout some locations over in Marshall."

"Fine!" Lily said. "Maybe _you_ should bail on us too!" she snapped.

Maya sighed. "Lily, you're acting like we'd be leaving you, personally, behind. Obviously, if we go, we go together, as group. We aren't married to this location."

Lily looked at her, then at Marcus, then at Jacob. Finally, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Whatever," she said, turning and walking towards the kitchen. "I need some air."

Jacob frowned, watching her go, then returned his gaze to Marcus. "What do you say? I've got a few ideas for places we could scout in Marshall," he said.

Marcus glance at Maya. "That sound good to you?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's my turn to do a gathering run, you two scout it out," Maya replied.

"Great! Let's go," Jacob said, grabbing his keys and walking out the front door.

Marcus lingered for a moment, staring at Maya, trying to think of something to say. Finally, he just said, "be careful out there."

She smiled. "I will. You too."

He nodded, then turned and headed out of the church. Jacob was already halfway across the courtyard. He hurried and caught up with the man, heading through the main gate and closing it behind them. They got into Jacob's blue pickup truck and he started the engine. They backed up, turned around and drove down the long dirt road, heading towards the way out of town. For a long moment, nobody spoke.

Finally, Marcus had to ask. "So...what was that all about?"

"Huh?" Jacob replied.

"That argument. Lily wasn't thinking straight, she was acting like we were talking about leaving _her_ more than anything else."

Jacob took a deep breath and heaved a weary sigh. "It's a long story..." he said.

"Well, it's not like there's anything on the radio," Marcus replied.

Jacob chuckled a little. "Yeah, I guess you're right...my mom died several years ago. I was thirteen. Lily was nine."

"Jesus...I'm sorry," Marcus murmured.

Jacob nodded as though he'd heard this sentiment a thousand times before. Probably had. "Yeah. It was a nightmare. And, to make it worse, about six months later Lily was diagnosed. Our dad, he was, um...well, he was a wreck. Big time. I had a to pick up a lot of that slack..." He deepened his voice suddenly, took on a solemn, paternal tone. "Jacob, I need you to be a man, now. Help take care of your sister..." He went back to talking normally. "You know what I mean? Heavy stuff. I mean...god, it was a _lot_ for a kid to live up to. I was thirteen! I didn't handle it very well. As soon as I hit eighteen, I told my dad that I was moving away, to Danforth and going to college..."

"So what happened?" Marcus asked.

Jacob chuckled uneasily. "Oh man, he blew the fuck up. We had a _huge_ fight. Lots of screaming and crying...we didn't talk for _years._ I, uh, well just got back in touch with him for the first time a few months ago. This was actually my first trip home since."

"Oh man, one hell of a homecoming..."

Jacob sighed. "Tell me about it."

"Anyway, that's why Lily's mad. She still hasn't quite forgiven me."

"Well...that sucks," Marcus said after a moment.

"Yep, that about sums the whole thing up," Jacob replied.

They drove on in silence for a while longer before Jacob talked again. "So...you and Maya, huh?" he asked, smirking.

"Oh lord, not you too," Marcus groaned.

"Come on. Zombie apocalypse is here, we can't trust our neighbors or the freaking Army...someone should be happy," Jacob replied.

"Yeah, I guess so...but right now, I can't say there's nothing there. I mean, _I_ sure like her, but...I don't know how she feels about me. And I've got to wonder if she'd even agree to some kind of relationship even if she _did._ She's so...strong willed. She might very well think it'd be more logical not to get distracted."

"Very reasonable...also miserable," Jacob replied.

Neither spoke again until they rolled into Marshall. Marcus had only been in this part of the valley a handful of times. As Jacob slowed the vehicle, edging around a pile up of cars, he crossed a bridge and came into the town proper. Marcus spied a pair of gas stations, a Swine & Bovine, some warehouses and a huge, fenced-in structure that he saw, as they drove by it, was a truck stop. The place was immense.

"Hey, what about there?" he asked, pointing.

"We'll check it out in a minute," Jacob replied, sounding distracted.

"Uh...okay."

Marcus stared at the roving bands of zombies, the smoking, rusted-out hulks of vehicles, the dead bodies, everywhere...

"Ah, there it is," Jacob muttered.

Marcus glanced ahead as Jacob pulled up in front of a house with a brick-walled privacy fence and what looked like a super sweet treehouse.

"So...what is this place?" Marcus asked as they got out of the car, checking the immediate area for zombies. There didn't seem to be any in the vicinity. Jacob walked up to the front gate, a black, fancy iron thing, and stared wistfully into the property.

"This place is an ideal location for surviving the zombie apocalypse! Look at that tree fort... _great_ place for a watchtower. And we could totally fortify this privacy fence without too much trouble. And there's lots of room in the house..."

"You seem pretty excited about this house, what's so special about it?" Marcus asked.

Jacob laughed. "When I was a kid, my best friend...her name was Sally. She lived here. This was her house. I was _so_ jealous of her. I always wanted to live here...come on, let's go take a look inside," he replied.

Marcus took another look around, making sure they hadn't drawn any unwanted attention, then followed an overly eager Jacob through the black gate. They walked into what had once been a very well-maintained lawn that was now marred by a pair of corpses and a lot of weeds. They walked up the sidewalk to the front porch.

As they began to make their way up the stairs to the porch, the front door suddenly burst open. Both men fell back, pulling their pistols out, covering the man that staggered out. Marcus almost squeezed the trigger, but he could tell that this was no zombie, just a deranged, incoherent man. He was deathly path and drooling, his eyes not tracking properly.

"Who...who's there?" he gasped.

"My name is Marcus," Marcus replied. "Let us help you."

"I...I can't..." Suddenly, he collapsed, crashing to the porch. He was still and quiet, no longer breathing. Dead, just like that.

"What the hell happened to him!?" Jacob cried softly.

"I don't-" Marcus began.

Suddenly, the man gasped, groaned and rose slowly to his feet. He cut loose with a low groan and began reaching for them, stumbling towards them. His eyes glowed a dull yellow. Marcus took a step back, training the gun on his head.

He squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot sounded loud in the still air. The sound of body dropping was louder. For a long moment, neither man spoke.

"What the hell was _that!?_ " Jacob cried.

"I don't know, some kind of sickness, maybe, but we really shouldn't be hanging around here," Marcus replied, already making for the car.

"Yeah, good idea," Jacob said shakily.

They got back in the truck and Jacob started it up. "Man, what if that's some kind of new sickness? I mean, he turned like instantly. Normally it takes a while, you know, like Dawn of the Dead? Most of us are probably actually infected with...whatever it is that does this. But we'll be fine and we won't actually turn into zombies until we die. But there's usually like, a grace period, like...ten minutes or so, from what I've seen. But that...that was _seconds,_ " Jacob marveled.

"Yeah. I don't know man...hey, turn up here. I want to check out that trucking station," Marcus said, trying to stay focused.

Jacob did as he asked and parked the truck in front of the front gate to the truck stop. Marcus walked up to the chainlink and studied the big blue building. It had a pair of enormous garage-style doors that were open to the world, revealing a wrecked, mostly empty interior. There were huge sections of empty space between the building and the gate. It didn't look like there was anyone inside, survivors or zombies. Marcus turned to Jacob.

"I think this would be our best bet," he said. "When we're ready to move."

"Yeah...I've got to agree with you. This place is huge. We could have like twenty people living here, no problem, whereas at the church, well...we're already kind of crowded," Jacob murmured. He glanced around. "Hey, there's a Swine and Bovine nearby...and a couple of gas stations and warehouses, man this is a primo spot, actually."

"Good, we'll have a real meeting about this at some point soon," Marcus replied. "Now, we should really be getting back."

They both got into the truck and began heading back to Spencer's Mill.

* * *

When Marcus and Jacob got back, Maya was waiting for them by the gate. Jacob said his hello and headed into the lot, but Marcus lingered.

"What's up?" he asked, feeling a small, cold stone of dread settle in his gut.

"Danica," Maya replied, and he felt some relief, which made him feel guilty. He was less worried just because it didn't pertain to him?

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. She's...we had a long talk," Maya replied. "The short of it is that she spent pretty much her entire tenure at the Kirkman place in a slump, that she kind of gave up. And now that's she somewhere new, she wants to...turn the page, kind of. Get a fresh start. She wants to heal, to be better, braver. She wants to _do_ more, and, to put it bluntly, Marcus, we need her. She's a damned paramedic and she knows her stuff. Having a live-in medic would do wonders for our community, not just for us, but as a great bargaining chip with other communities."

"This all sounds great, but you make it seem like I need to do something," Marcus replied.

Maya nodded. "Perceptive, aren't you? I want you to take her out shooting. Nowhere far away, _not_ near the Kirkman place. You know, something simple, to build her confidence, maybe out back. I saw a little warehouse behind the church, maybe you could kill two birds with one stone, clear the area out, check out the building."

"Yeah, I could do that," Marcus replied.

"Thanks...you're a pretty great guy, you know that? You never really seem to hesitate when it comes to stepping up to the plate."

"Well, it's not like we're exactly in a position where we have that luxury."

"I don't think it's just that. And hey, you need to learn to take a compliment," Maya said. She lingered a moment longer. "Well, I'll go get Danica. Wait here."

He watched her go until she disappeared into the church, wondering if she did like him back, if she would accept him, if he was being an idiot. He was still wondering these things as Danica appeared from the church, walking towards him. She had changed her clothes, now wearing a pair of jeans and a formfitting t-shirt. She'd also cut her hair so that it was a bit less than shoulder length. She had found a holster somewhere and had a revolver tucked into it.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello, Danica. I'm glad to see you're feeling better," Marcus replied as they walked out into the gravel parking lot.

"Me too. I...uh, thanks for helping me get out of there. I haven't had a chance to thank you yet. I've seen the others, but I'm pretty sure you were there..." The sentence seem to kind of trail off into a question.

Marcus nodded. "Yes, I was there."

"Good. I...that night is pretty hazy. Lots of bad memories. I honestly don't even know how I survived. I've spent a lot of time wondering 'what if?' You know? What if I had been more active? What if I hadn't let myself get so depressed and apathetic? Would I have been able to save even one of them? All of them?"

"It's not like you can control depression, Danica," Marcus replied as they set off around the side of the church, working toward its back. Marcus had seen the small warehouse that Maya had referred to over the past few days.

"No, I know that, but I know that at least some of my giving up was just me. I made choices, wrong ones...I just let it all go to hell...me, I mean. I let my brain go to hell, I didn't try to fight it. Everything that's happened so far, it just seems like so much. I didn't want to think or do anything, and I didn't used to be like that. I remember being so full of life and energy as a teenager, ready to take on the world, and I want to be like that again."

"It's not a bad goal to have," Marcus replied.

They made their way around a large, wet hole in the ground, the warehouse now in sight. A handful of zombies were lingering around it.

Marcus pointed to them. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," Danica replied. She pulled out her piece.

"You know how to use that?"

"Psh, you kidding me? I lived in New York. My dad taught me how to shoot by the time I was ten. I know how to work a revolver," she replied.

Marcus nodded. They advanced on the warehouse. He brought his own pistol to bear, aimed at the nearest zombie and squeezed the trigger. As the bullet tore a fragment of the zombie's skull off, the party got started. The ten or so others in the immediate area all turned towards them and began making their way towards the pair.

Slowly, carefully, they worked their way through the crowd, putting down the initial dozen lingering in and around the warehouse, and killing off another half-dozen that wandered in from around the area.

"Feel better?" Marcus asked after they were sure they were alone again.

"Yeah, actually, I do. This was pretty cathartic," Danica replied as she finished reloading her revolver. She hadn't been lying, she handled it like a pro.

"Great! Now, let's get to work. It's getting late and I'm starving," Marcus said, heading towards the warehouse.

Danica followed.

All in all, Marcus decided, not too bad of a day.


	24. Chapter 24: Loss & Gain

Marcus woke up the next day feeling all right.

He and Danica had spent the better part of two hours hauling their loot from that abandoned warehouse. Maya and Jacob had pitched in when they'd realized just how much there was. They'd found a huge stash of gasoline, a couple of forty gallon drums that had been a bitch to get back to the church and they'd ended up stashing in a tarp in one corner of the courtyard. There'd also been some nice construction materials tucked away.

When they'd finished that up, the four of them had a late dinner, since everyone else had already eaten then, and got several crazy stories out of Danica, who seemed to be cautiously coming out of her shell. She told them about the six month stretch she pulled working the graveyard shift in New York as a paramedic and all the nutjobs and psychos she ended up running into. When she ran out of stories to tell, Maya ended up regaling them with a few of her own stories from when she did a tour of duty in Afghanistan.

By the end of the meal, Marcus found himself falling down tired. He'd been surprised to see how early it was: just past nine PM. The sun was a fresh memory, only recently having gone down beyond the horizon. But, he reasoned, it had been a long day. So he'd said his goodbyes, stumbled off to bed, kicked off his shoes and passed out.

Now here he was, pulling his shoes on. The sun was up but he could tell it was still fairly early. He began his morning ritual. Taking a leak, washing his mouth out with a little cup of Listerine, (they'd found a crates' worth tucked away in someone's house yesterday), deodorant and one mournful glance at the shower, which was no longer useful. Someday, he'd like to be able to enjoy a shower again...or at least a bath.

Then he left the bathroom and grabbed a trio of Nutrigrain Bars and a bottle of water. Maya was the only other one in the kitchen.

"Hey, how you doing?" she asked.

"Good," Marcus replied. "I feel refreshed. I notice I'm waking up feeling like that more and more often these days."

"Early to bed, early to rise isn't bullshit. Your body is in its natural rhythm again and as a result, you feel better," Maya replied.

Marcus began to reply, but glanced over as someone stepped into the doorway that led into the rest of the church. Lily. She looked worried.

"What's up?" Maya asked after she'd turned around and followed his gaze.

"So...I know it seems like I keep dumping this crap in your lap but...something has come up again and it requires your attention."

Marcus chuckled. "Of course it does. What do you need?" he replied.

"I've been talking with someone on the radio. A pair of people who have been kind of camping out and on the run. They didn't even know about the enclaves or anything and I was just telling them they should come join us...and then something went wrong. They stopped responding. I'm worried about them. They're really close, in that house at the bottom of the hill, to the left, first one in the row...you know the one?"

"Yeah," Maya replied, nodding. "Okay, I'll go check them out, extend an offer."

"I'll join you," Marcus said.

They hurriedly finished their breakfast and walked into the main room of the church. As they began heading for the door, Marcus hesitated. He saw Pastor Will sitting by one of the windows, staring out it...

He still wasn't better.

Couldn't worry about that now. They were likely working on a short timeline and there were people to save. The two of them made sure they had their guns, ammo and all the other stuff they tended to need to make it out in the zombie infested city. Once that was done, the pair hurried outside, down the stairs and across the courtyard.

"What do you think it is?" Marcus asked as they pushed through the gate, closed it behind them and began making their way down the dirt incline.

"We've got two choices...three, I guess, technically. Zombies, humans or environmental. I don't hear gunshots..." she hesitated, stopped, put a hand on his chest. He frowned and looked forward. There were people standing in front of the house in question. "Put your gun away," she said quietly. "No sudden movements. Follow me."

Marcus studied the situation as they came closer. He saw two people kneeing down on the front lawn, cowering, their hands tucked behind their heads in terrified defeat. Two generic grunts in green fatigues, bulletproof vests and helmets stood behind them, holding rifles, not exactly pointed at them, but not lowered either. Another man, the Sergeant Maya had confronted the first time, stood beside them, looking frustrated.

The two on the ground were clearly civilians, dressed in stained, torn clothing, a man and a woman, both of them pale and shaking, eyes wide, terrified.

"This is bullshit!" the woman said, her voice breaking. "We're just...we're just trying to survive out here! You can't kill us for that!"

The Sergeant heaved a world-weary sigh. "Uncle Sam would seem to disagree with you there, ma'am. Our orders are to evict squatters...with lethal force if they resist. And you resisted so..."

"P-please! Just let us go! I got kids man!" the man cried, panic clear in his voice.

The Sergeant shook his head. "And yet you're out here, violating quarantine, unlawfully occupying people's homes. Great parenting." He rolled his eyes.

"Look, we...we're sorry, okay?! We're just trying to get by...like everyone else!"

The Sergeant finally looked over at Marcus and Maya for the first time. He heaved another sigh. His hand had been resting on the pistol holstered on his hip. He frowned. "Fine. You got thirty seconds to get the hell out of my sight. Thirty...twenty-nine...twenty-eight..."

When they realized he was serious, both of them stood and took off, sprinting away from the house, down the street, totally heedless to anyone or anything else. Maya stepped forward. The soldiers stirred uneasily.

"Be honest, Sergeant Tan, do you _really_ expect us to respect 'quarantine', hide in our homes and hope the zombies don't notice us? What about food? Water? Medical supplies? That shit doesn't just grow out of the fucking ground," Maya said.

Sergeant Tan regarded her with miserable, unhappy eyes. Finally, he said, "why don't you two make yourselves useful and go hunt them down? Make sure they don't get eaten."

"Would _you_ respect quarantine, Sergeant?" Maya asked, her voice still challenging.

Tan stared at her for a long moment. "No," he said, finally.

The door the house suddenly opened and a tall woman in fatigues stepped out. "We're finished here, Sergeant. Tell your men to prep for evac and RTB."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, jerking his head to the side, indicating that they should get the hell out of there.

Marcus didn't argue that. He and Maya turned and set off, moving quickly. Both to get away from the military and to find those two survivors.

"This is bullshit," Maya growled as they stalked off down the street, heading in the general direction they'd last seen the survivors. "This is _not_ the Army I signed up for, I bled for. They're here running fucking tests and bullshitting around while we're out there starving and dying and cold and miserable."

"Yeah, they could at _least_ be offering food, water, supplies..." Marcus muttered miserably.

They came to stop before one of the houses and stared up at it. There was no way to figure out right away which one the pair had gone into...no way but the hard way. With a sigh, Marcus set off into the house, Maya following. They spent the next twenty minutes searching the first house, then the house's shed, then the next house, where they finally found the two terrified survivors, cowering together in the upstairs bathroom.

"Please, don't shoot!" the man cried.

"We're here to help," Maya replied. "Just calm down. We aren't with the military. Our radio operator, Lily, said she'd been talking with you not too long ago."

"Lily...oh, thank god. She was...she said we could come live with you guys," the woman said, sounding tentatively hopeful. "It's still...the offer's still open, right?"

"Yes," Marcus said. "We can take you there right now."

"Oh, thank god," the man whispered, looking like he was ready to cry.

"Thank you," the woman said.

Marcus and Maya began to lead them out of the house.

* * *

The woman's named was Karen Tolbert.

The man's name was Anson Hearst, which was kind of funny, because back before the zombie apocalypse happened, he had been the owner and director of the only funeral parlor in the valley, located in Fairfield.

Karen was a local, and a college student over in Danforth. She had been home, visiting family, when the shit went down.

"So...what can you do?" Maya asked as they all walked back to the church.

"Well...I'm not a half-bad shot," Anson said after a moment. "And I guess I can run for quite a while if I have to."

"And you?" Maya asked.

"I...well...not much," Karen said awkwardly. "I was studying art history in college," she murmured. "Kind of was drinking my way through the classes...you won't kick us out for that, will you, I mean-"

"Don't worry, we're not like that," Marcus said.

"But you _do_ have to contribute to the community. Fair's fair," Maya replied. "There's stuff you can do that doesn't require much in the way of brains or strength, really. We need someone on the watch tower at all times and we need runners to head into town and gather supplies, bring it back here, people on the radio at all times, since Lily can't be there literally twenty four seven."

"We'll be happy to contribute," Karen said.

"Yeah. We're so damned tired of running..." Anson muttered.

Marcus took stock of the pair as they came within sight of the church. They both seemed pretty...well, basic. Simple people from a small town who had somehow survived the chaos. They didn't seem very smart, or strong, or capable even. He felt bad for making such a judgment, but, he supposed, living in a world like the one he suddenly had found himself in, you kind of had to make such judgments...

Of course, they _had_ survived for this long. Something like three weeks into a full-blown zombie apocalypse. So there had to be _something_ to them...

As he was thinking this and they were approaching the church, his radio suddenly crackled to life and an unpleasantly familiar voice came onto it. _"Hey there, this is Job Wilkerson...you out there Marcus?"_

Marcus and Maya shared an unhappy glance, and Marcus brought his radio out. "Yeah...this is Marcus, what do you want?"

" _Well now, is that any way to answer the phone, son?"_

"What do you want, Job?" Marcus replied, suppressing his agitation.

Job laughed. It was an ugly sound. _"I hear tell you're in the business of doing good deeds...how'd you like to drive out to our farm and do one?"_

"What is it?"

" _There's someone here that needs a ride home...no, don't worry. Not one of yours. I'm not too sure he could make it on his own."_

Marcus sighed and considered it for a moment. He could easily envision them laying some kind of trap...but what if it was legit? They were trying to build bridges, build trust. "All right, fine. I'll be right over," he replied. He turned to Maya. "Get them inside and settled. Send out Ed, would you? I imagine he'll be the only one in any shape or temperament to join me on a ride along to the damned Wilkersons," he said.

"Yeah...that makes sense. I'll come, if you want me to," Maya said.

Marcus smiled. "It's fine. Really. I'll handle it. If I need backup, you'll be the first one to know."

"Okay...be careful out there."

"I will."

He watched her and the others go as he came to a halt in the gravel parking lot. Glancing up, he saw Sam in the watchtower. She looked...peaceful. A lot of less generally pissed off than she had before. When she glanced down and saw him looking up at her, she smiled and waved. He waved back. A moment later, Ed came out into the lot and they headed for the station wagon they'd all rode down in from Mount Tanner.

"Having fun out there?" he asked as Marcus started up the car and they began driving through Spencer's Mill.

"Oh yeah, loads," Marcus replied.

Ed laughed, yawned and laid back. "Let me know when we're there."

Marcus rolled his eyes and drove on.

* * *

When they rolled up to the Wilkerson's place, Marcus didn't like what he saw. Three men stood in the mouth of the dilapidated barn that sat at the bottom of the hill that served as the Wilkerson's front yard. Two of the men he recognized: Job and Mickey Wilkerson. They were grinning unpleasantly. The third man was favoring one side, his hand clutched over his right ribs. Marcus slowed and then parked about ten feet from the trio.

"Stay here," he said quietly.

Ed nodded, hand on the pistol in his lap.

Marcus got out and, for a second, marveled at how nuts his life had become. Moreover, how quickly he'd adapted to it all. Just a few weeks ago he'd been camping, not a worry in the world, and now he had to face down nuts with guns and ravenous zombies while the Army dicked around in hazmat suits and the world came down around them.

"Hey there," Job said amiably, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hi," Marcus replied, approaching cautiously.

"Our friend here had himself a bad fall, and we're pretty busy here. We were hoping you could give him a ride home."

Marcus sighed quietly. "Yeah. Sure. Got nothing else going on. Come on," he said, making his way back to the truck.

The man thanked him and began following him, making his way slowly towards the truck as well. Marcus climbed into the driver's seat and the man got into the back. Nobody spoke until they were well on their way down the long, winding dirt road that led back towards civilization.

"My name's Sam Haney," the man said. "Uh...thanks for helping me out."

"I'm Marcus and he's Ed...what were you doing back there?" Marcus replied.

Sam laughed bitterly. "The Wilkerson boys decided I was getting behind on my payments. I tried to tell them I'd get the rest but...uh, well, it didn't matter too much to them. They got pretty upset and it sucked, but, well, heh, I guess a couple of cracked ribs is better than starving!"

"Mickey really worked you over, huh?" Marcus replied quietly.

"Mickey? Nope. It was Job."

"What...really?"

"Yeah, I'm as surprised as you are. Mickey was the one who got Job off of me. Surprised the hell out of me, too."

"Huh...why were you cutting deals with the Wilkersons?" Marcus asked.

Sam sighed. "I live with Alice Miller...I know you've been by, I saw you not too long ago when Alice went to meet you. Alice is...very stubborn. And she likes to think that we're all right on our own. But the truth of the matter is, if I hadn't cut a deal with them, we'd have run out of food a long time ago. I still owe them for it..."

"If there's anything I can do, just let us know," Marcus said.

"I appreciate it, and it may come to that, but I got good advice on a stash out in the fields that'll get them off my back. Just gotta get to it. There _is_ however, one thing I'd like to ask you for. Alice...I'm real sweet on her and for whatever reason she's sweet on me. I'd prefer it if you didn't mention this to her or anyone else."

"We can do that," Marcus replied.

"Thank you."

They continued driving until they came to the fancy farmhouse Marcus had visited not all that long ago and had a conversation with a beautiful middle-aged woman wielding a shotgun on her front porch. As he drove up, that same woman stepped out, wielding that same shotgun, though she wasn't actually pointing it at them this time.

"What...Sam!? Where the hell have you-oh lord, what happened?" she asked as they all exited the car and began walking forward.

"Hi, Alice...uh, well, I took a bad fall, think I may have cracked a few ribs. Uh...I'd be screwed if these guys hadn't come by and given me a ride home."

"A bad fall, huh..." she sighed. "Just get in here." Sam chuckled weakly and made his way carefully up the stairs. "Go on...get in there. Shoo!" she said.

When he was inside, she turned back to Marcus. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," Marcus replied.

Once it was clear there was nothing more to be said, Marcus got back into his car, backed out and began driving back home. For a long while, neither man said anything. Then, finally, a thought struck Marcus and he grinned.

"So...how are things with Lily?" he asked.

Ed chuckled uneasily and rubbed the back of his neck. "We're...together," he said. "She's...really nice. And what about you and Maya, huh?"

"Deflect, why don't you?" Marcus replied. "Still figuring things out," he said after a moment.

"You sure take your time with figuring things out..."

"Oh yeah, the second _you_ get into a relationship you think you can climb up a tower and offer advice from up high. You got lucky. Lily is a lot more...approachable than Maya. I mean, she's in the Army for fuck's sake."

"There _is_ that..."

Marcus began to reply when his radio crackled to life. _"Marcus! Marcus, are you there!?"_ It was Lily, and she sounded panicked.

He felt his heart leap in his chest as he grabbed his radio and brought it up. "This is me, Lily, what's wrong? Are you under attack?"

" _No...it's...something happened, Marcus. Something bad. You need to get home right now. I just...please, hurry."_

"Okay, I'm on my way," Marcus replied, knowing that there was a good chance she didn't want to mention whatever it was over the radio.

All he could think of was that something had happened to Maya.

He hit the gas pedal and drove faster.

* * *

When they got back to the church, Marcus and Ed found the watchtower unmanned. Not a good sign. They heard raised voices coming from inside the church. Marcus pulled his pistol out and raced across the courtyard, up the stairs and in through the front door, which was slightly ajar. He relaxed a little bit when he saw all familiar faces. Maya, Sam, Lily...in fact, everyone in the entire enclave was in the main hall.

And...

"What happened!?" Marcus cried.

Pastor Will was sprawled out on the floor in a thick, wet pool of blood, a hole in his forehead. His eyes were closed.

He looked...peaceful.

"Alan shot Pastor Will!" Lily responded, her voice edged with anger and terror.

" _You did what?!_ " Marcus screamed, whirling on Alan, who stood away from the group, his pistol in his hands, not exactly pointed at anyone in particular.

"Oh bitch all you want! You _know_ I was in the right!" Alan replied, taking a step back. "None of you had the stones to do what needed doing. He wasn't getting any better, how long before he turned into one of those things!?"

Sam stepped forward, furious, angry tears on her cheeks. "Oh _fuck you with your noble martyr bullshit!_ " she screamed. "You don't go killing people without at least consulting the rest of us!"

"You didn't _know_ he was going to die, Alan!" Lily cried.

"Oh the hell we didn't know that! Everyone who gets this fucking 'black fever' thing ends up dead sooner rather than later. You _know_ that!"

"You still should have at least talked to the rest of us first!" Jacob replied.

"Oh, yeah, we sit around talking about our goddamn feelings all day, and then what?! He turns when nobody's looking, eats three of us before we can put him down!?"

For a second, nobody seemed to know what to say. Then, in a quiet but determined voice, Lily spoke up. "What about _me,_ Alan? Do I need to start sleeping with one eye open?"

"Get any sicker and you just might," Alan replied darkly.

"This is _not_ okay, Alan," Maya said suddenly. "You have to leave."

"...what?" he asked.

"Gather your things, take some supplies, and leave. You aren't welcome here anymore, Alan," Maya replied firmly.

He looked around him, studying their faces...and found no friends.

"Go, Alan," Marcus said quietly.

"Fine, I'll go, and you'll all fucking die because _you don't have what it takes to make the hard decisions!_ " he screamed at them, suddenly furious.

They all watched as he stomped across the room, snagged a backpack from the rack, filled it with some supplies from the cabinet and stomped over to the door. He stopped, once, to turn and stare back at them. "You'll regret this," he said, his voice low and seething with fury. Then, he stepped out the front door.

Marcus walked to the window and watched him cross the courtyard. Overhead, the skies were still gray and grim. It was just beginning to rain again as Alan walked through the front gates. And then he was gone.

Marcus turned back around and stared at Pastor Will.

"We should bury him," he said quietly.

"We can't," Maya murmured. "The Army..."

"Fuck the Army!" Sam snapped. "We're not wrapping him in tarp and leaving him out front. We're burying him."

Maya didn't say anything further, just nodded.

They began the grizzly task.


	25. Chapter 25: A Helping Hand

It was raining as they buried Pastor Will in one corner of the lot the church took up. Marcus and Ed dug the grave while Maya and Sam built the coffin. It was a simple but sturdy thing made of wood. They wrapped Will in a sheet and placed him in the coffin. Danica took up the grim task of mopping up the blood and bits of skull and brain. She'd quietly said that she'd had enough experience with it in her time. Once everything was finished, they all gathered at the grave. They placed the coffin in the hole and buried it.

Everyone stood around the freshly milled ground.

"Now what?" Ed asked quietly, his voice breaking the rain-muted silence that had befallen the group.

"I guess we say some things," Maya replied softly.

"Sam and Jacob and I are the only ones left who really knew him," Lily said. "I guess...I guess I should go first. Pastor Will was a really nice guy. I know that sounds kind of...generic, I guess, but I mean it. He was nice without any motives. He was genuinely kind. People always say 'he'd give you the shirt off his back', and I've heard it so often that it kind of lost its meaning. But Pastor Will really would have done that if he thought it would help. When my dad and I and everyone else showed up here, he didn't even hesitate in the slightest to offer us a place to stay and food. He just let us in. I...will really miss him."

Sam cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I guess I'm the only one who knew him before all the shi...the stuff went down. Lily's right. He was a great man. He put up with a lot of my...uh, bad behavior, I guess. I was a jerk to him often enough and it never made him angry, not even close. I really can't believe he's just gone..."

She didn't seem to have anything more to say, so, one by one, the others threw in what little they could. Jacob, Ed, Maya and Marcus all said something, and the latest additions to the crew, Danica, Karen and Anson, stood by quietly in the rain. Finally, Sam said something about someone needing to man the watchtower, turned and left. The others took it as a sign and began to disperse from the freshly dug grave site.

In the end, Marcus and Maya were left standing by the grave. Maya finally stirred. "I'm worried about the two newbies," she said.

"Oh yeah?" Marcus replied, still staring at the dirt that was becoming mud.

"Yeah. They seem...simple, I guess. I mean, they've survived this long, so there must be _something_ to them, but I'm hard-pressed to find what. I was wondering if maybe one of us should take them out on a run or something. You know, I saw a camp site behind the church, in the woods, maybe fifty or sixty feet out. It'd be an easy run..."

"I'll do it," Marcus replied. "I'll take Anson out."

"Okay. Thanks. Are you...going to be okay? I mean, I know you're not okay, right now, but you aren't going to like freak out or anything, are you?"

"No. I don't think so, at least. It's just...this is all feels so weird. I can't believe Pastor Will is just...dead. I mean, he's dead. Forever. He's gone."

"I know. I've had to put up enough with it myself. I could take Anson out if you needed some time..."

Marcus shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'll...uh, I'll do it. I should keep busy anyway. Not really time to sit around and do nothing during the zombie apocalypse. Thanks, though," he replied, trying to keep his tone light.

Maya nodded, turned to leave, then hesitated, turned back and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me know...if you need to talk. Really, it's not just a thing I'm saying because I feel like I should say something. I mean it."

Marcus smiled at that. "I know you do. You're tough and strong and grim and kind of abrasive, but you definitely _aren't_ full of shit. Thanks."

She smiled awkwardly at him, then did turn and leave.

Marcus glanced back down at the dirt, at Pastor Will's grave. He sighed and made himself look away from it. Then he went to go find Anson.

* * *

It didn't take much to convince Anson to grab a pistol, gear up and head out into the zombie-infested wilderness behind the church. He seemed amiable enough and open to being told what to do. Marcus supposed at least that was a plus. He also insisted on using his own weapon: a big, chrome six shooter that fired forty-fives.

"My own personal sidearm, and my favorite," he said as they left the church and began to make their way around the privacy wall, into the woods.

"Oh yeah?" Marcus replied, trying to encourage the man.

"Yep. Bought it as soon as I was able. Took me about a year to save up for the damned thing, but I had my license and everything. It's probably what helped keep me alive the most, at least at first. I had gotten into the habit of taking it down to the shooting range once a week or so. Kind of an expensive habit, but hey, I finally got to the point where I could afford it."

"What did you do, before all this?" Marcus asked.

"Funeral home director."

"Really?"

"Heh, yeah. I know I don't seem too bright...don't worry, everyone thinks that about me. But it's actually not all that difficult. When I was young, fourteen or thereabouts, I got into this bad car accident. My dad was driving. The other guy was drunk, slammed into us...you know how everyone says, 'the drunks always walk away'? Well, that wasn't the case this time. This guy...man his brains were all over the windshield, man. Real fuckin' nasty. I remember seeing that, lots of blood and shit, and...it didn't bother me. I'm not like a psychopath or anything, don't worry about that. I mean, I felt bad for the guy, at least at first, until I found out he was drunk, but it didn't make me want to, you know, vomit. That kind of stayed with me."

"So you went into funeral work?" Marcus replied.

Anson nodded. "Yeah. Not at first, though. Well...sorta. After high school, I couldn't find a job to save my fucking life. Then I heard through the grapevine that they were looking for someone to keep up the graveyard. You know, mow the lawn, make little fixes to the fence and bury the occasional body. No one wanted to do it because dead bodies creeped them out...so I went and got the job. Did it for two years and then, one day, my boss looked at me and said, 'Anson, corpses never seem to bother you...why aren't aiming for my job?'

"I didn't really have a good answer for him and he said he was looking to retire. I'd already been hanging around the funeral home, (it's the only one in the whole valley), so I had picked up on a lot of stuff. I thought I had to go to college but he said that I didn't _have_ to, all I had to do was prove to him that I could do it. So, for the next year he pretty much trained me on how to do everything, then, for the next year after that, started kind of splitting the responsibilities. By the end of that year, he felt like he could retire and he passed it off to me."

"That sounds pretty cool," Marcus replied.

"Yeah, it was great. That was about four years ago...and now all the dead bodies are coming back to life. Kind of put me out of business." He chuckled.

They reached the camp site that Maya had indicated. Marcus surveyed it. He found the shredded remains of an orange tent, a cooler, two backpacks and a couple of fold-out chairs. It gave him a flashback to Mount Tanner.

"How about you keep watch while I check for stuff?" Marcus suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Anson replied.

Marcus set about pawing through the packs. "So...you and Karen? You together?"

Anson chuckled. "Yeah. Kind of crazy. We met the day everything went to shit and everyone went on the run, zombies everywhere, the cops dying, fires burning. We kind of just bumped into each other and teamed up. We ran to a house that was abandoned and hid upstairs, waiting for everything to die down. And things kinda got, uh...heated, heh. And I know what you're thinking! She's got _huge_ tits, but she's pretty damn skinny...they're fake, that's what you're thinking right? You'd be wrong. They're totally real, they just...kept growing, for some reason."

"Huh," was all Marcus could really think to say.

He finished rifling through the backpacks, not finding much of anything, same for the tent, but there were close to a dozen bottles of water in the cooler. He loaded up his backpack with them and prepared to head back, but his radio crackled to life.

" _Hey, this is Hanson, sending out a general SOS. I'm at the graveyard, behind the church, and I'm getting swarmed, I could really use some help..."_

Marcus frowned. The graveyard behind the church? He ran forward suddenly, cresting a rise in the landscape, and spied the very graveyard where Doc Hanson was at. In fact, he could actually see the man...and about a dozen other figures coming towards him.

He took off running, bringing his radio out, calling for Anson to follow. "This is Marcus, Doc, I'm on my way with some backup, hold on!"

There was no response. It made sense, given that all of the figures had now converged. Marcus and Anson ran for all they were worth, dodging between trees and the occasional zombie that was stumbling towards them. They hopped a low fence, the very fence Anson had repaired in his youth, and pulled out their melee weapons. Marcus still had his red crowbar and Anson had gotten his hands on a fireplace poker.

The pair hit the crowd and began beating skulls in. Blood and brains flew on the air. Together, Anson, Doc and Marcus cracked a dozen and a half zombie skulls. By the time the last one fell, Marcus let out a heavy breath, his crowbar dripping gore. They all remained tense, prepped for more, because it was all too common for zombies to show up after a battle, drawn by the noise. But they were finally, really alone.

"Thanks," Hanson said. "I appreciate it...Marcus, and..." he frowned, squinted. "Anson? You ran the funeral home, didn't you?"

Anson grinned. "Guilty as charged."

"Huh. So you're part of Marcus' crew now, huh?" Hanson asked.

"Yep."

"We picked up two more...and lost two," Marcus replied.

"Oh my, what happened?"

Marcus sighed and updated Hanson on everything that had happened that day. When he was finished, Hanson shook his head. "Good lord...I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks..." Marcus looked around. "What are you doing up here, anyway?"

Doc frowned and scanned the old graveyard with his tired gaze. "Just visiting my wife, Gina's, grave. She passed several years ago."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I've...made my peace. In a way, now, I'm a little glad. It's a mercy that she didn't see what the town's come to..." He sighed and looked around. "Well, I'd best be off. Thanks again for help, call me if you need me."

"Happy to help, and good luck out there," Marcus replied.

He and Anson began heading back to the church.

* * *

The more time Marcus spent with Anson, the more he decided he liked the man. After getting back from rescuing Doc Hanson, he took Anson out on scavenge duty...though that was getting to be a little more difficult. They were having to go further and further away from the church to hunt for supplies all the time. To be fair, they had gathered up a decent amount, but who knew how long they were going to be there? And there were so many black Xs on the map now. How long before they had drained Spencer's Mill dry of resources?

His worries about this, however, were shoved aside as he and Anson came back from their latest run, bearing a load of medical supplies they'd discovered in someone's trunk. As they came into the main hall of the church, they heard Lily trying desperately to talk to someone. "Hello?...Hello? Ben? Can you hear me? Are you still there?"

She heaved a sigh.

"What's up, Lily?" Marcus asked after setting his rucksack of medical supplies down on one of the free tables.

"I was talking with someone...another group of survivors. They've only recently gotten hold of radios I guess. I'm pretty sure they're in one of the dozen or so farmhouses that dot the landscape. We've been talking over the past day or so. This guy, Ben, he was calling out for help. He was at an abandoned barn...but then he went silent. Could you check on him? He sounded really panicked...I can show you where it is on your map."

"Yeah, we got this," Marcus replied, glancing at Anson, who nodded.

Lily showed them where it was on the map and both men grabbed some more ammo, made sure they were topped off on survival gear and headed out to the gravel parking lot. They got into Jacob's truck and tore ass out of town, making for the abandoned barn.

"Does this kind of thing happen a lot?" Anson asked.

"More than you'd think," Marcus replied. "It's tough enough trying to just survive, but we've kind of made it a policy to extend a helping hand to anyone who asks, too."

"For which me and Karen are very grateful," Anson replied.

Marcus laughed. "Yeah. We're happy to have you. We were hoping to get other people to join us. There's a few other enclaves around, none of them as big as ours. We can't be divided like this. Either the zombies or the Army or the damned Wilkersons are going to pick us off, one by one. It'd be a lot harder if we were a united front...there it is."

He fell silent as he spied the abandoned barn, sitting next to an equally abandoned farmhouse at the end of a dirt road off the main street. They saw a truck parked just outside of it. It looked like it had showed up just recently. Marcus felt something cold and frightening settle into the pit of his stomach as he pulled up next to the truck.

"Guns out, but don't do anything dangerous. Follow my lead," he said.

"Got it," Anson replied.

They got out of the truck and walked up to the barn. They could hear voices inside. "What's going on in here?" he asked, spying three men standing in the middle of the open area. Two of them looked like they were menacing the third. He recognized both of them as guys who usually hung around the Wilkerson's place.

"None of your business," one of them snarled. He was holding a shotgun and the other was holding a pistol.

"We were just leaving anyway," the second, who seemed like he was trying to take after Job, said coolly. He looked back at the man, who Marcus assumed was Ben, the man Lily had been trying to raise on the radio. "Think about what we talked about, Benny boy," he said.

"Uh...y-yeah, okay," Ben replied.

Both of the men walked out past Marcus and Anson, got into their truck and drove off. Marcus watched them until they left, then turned his attention to Ben. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah...thank god you showed up when you did. I think you were the only reason they left...who are you?"

"My name is Marcus. This is Anson. I believe you were talking to our radio operator, Lily, before things got...shitty?"

"Oh, yes! Lily! I wasn't sure my call got out. My name is Ben, by the way."

"What did they want?" Marcus asked.

He sighed and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, not quite meeting their eyes. "So...I had to cut a deal with the Wilkersons to, you know, survive. They gave me and my group food and I promised them bullets. But...well, bullets are harder to come by than I thought, apparently. That's why I'm out here...scavenging for bullets. But I haven't found _any_ and I can't give up what little we have left. We need to defend ourselves..."

Marcus sighed, considering the situation. Finally, he turned around. "Come with me," he said, heading towards the truck. Anson followed.

"What? Why?" Ben replied, but he followed, too.

"I'm going to help you settle this," Marcus said.

"Oh...uh, okay."

The three of them got into the truck and drove back through the city to the church. They headed inside and as soon as he could, Marcus tracked down Maya. He found her organizing the gun lockers, which was good. He sent Ben to talk to Lily, since it seemed like it might be nice for them to meet in person, and brought Maya up to speed on the situation.

"So, you want to pay their debt with our bullets?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

"Yes," Marcus replied. "This is a way we can reach out and help people. Maybe we can convince them to join up with us. We need more people, more resources, more strength."

"That's a good point," Maya replied, still frowning. "But what if they just rack up more debt? We can't feed a black hole."

"I agree, and we'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it, but I think this is a good way to test the waters."

Maya sighed. "Okay, Marcus. Take a rucksack of ammo. Try to learn anything you can about their enclave," she said. "And...good luck."

"Thanks," he replied.

He gathered up a rucksack of ammo, then led Anson and Ben back out to the truck. As he started driving out of town once more, towards the Wilkerson's place, he started asking Ben about him and his group of survivors.

"There's just the three of us," he replied, all smiles now that he realized fully what was happening. "Me and Paula and Bill. We all live out on Bill's farm, way out in the fields. It's a nice place and not all that many zombies come by. You'd think a farmer would've had more food but...I guess Bill's situation wasn't all that great when the outbreak hit...thanks for doing this, by the way. You really didn't have to," he said.

"I know. We wanted to. We're trying to build trust and rebuild a community," Marcus replied.

"Well that's more than anyone else I know about that's left is doing...except for those people over in Marshall..."

"Marshall?" Anson replied. "What people in Marshall?"

"I heard this transmission once, at least I thought I did, it was pretty weak. Said they were asking people to come over and live in Marshall."

"Huh," Marcus replied, mulling over it.

Something to be considered for later. For now, he was closing in on the Wilkerson's place. He was really getting tired of seeing this long, winding dirt road. It seemed that he'd been coming up this way too many times just recently. He spied Mickey and Job standing together in the shadow of their run-to-ruin barn, in pretty much the same location and position as the time he'd come to pick up the other guy they were beating on.

Seemed that they were always doing that.

"Hello there," Job said as everyone got out.

"Here," Marcus replied, tossing the rucksack at their feet. "Does that square you and them?" he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Ben.

Job knelt, zipped open the sack and looked inside. He let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of bullets...this wouldn't be from your supply, would it?"

Mickey scoffed. "Don't be stupid, why would it be from their supply?"

"Does it square you and them?" Marcus pressed.

"Yep. Sure does. Don't much care where it comes from," Job replied, zipping it back up, picking it up and passing it off to Mickey, who looked at it like it was some strange, alien thing. He turned his bewildering gaze onto Marcus.

"It _is_ from your own stash?...why would you _do_ that?" he asked.

"Now Ben, if you find yourself in a jam...don't you be afraid to call us. We're always open for business," Job said, grinning his used car salesman's grin.

"Yeah, sounds like a _real_ good idea," Marcus muttered, rolling his eyes. For a second, he saw the false civilized veneer of Job's amicable good cheer crack, and the man cut his eyes angrily in Marcus' direction. They stared at each other for a second, Marcus unwilling to look away, and then Job broke into another smile.

"That goes double for you, pal."

"Sure," Marcus replied. "Let's go."

They drove back down the winding road. Marcus could feel a tension headache beginning to build just behind his eyes. He hated dealing with that asshole. Mickey was a jerk and he seemed pretty blunt, but at least it was pretty obvious where you stood with him. Job was...a snake. He was so obviously full of shit, and he _knew_ it was obvious, and seemed to get off on pretending like they were all civilized and just best buds ready to grab a drink together.

"Thanks again," Ben said.

"You're welcome...maybe we should get together sometime. Maybe Anson and I could come over and get to know you and your friends."

"Oh...I'd have to talk with them about it. Actually...could you drop me off right here? It's a hard drive and an easier walk," Ben replied once they were back on the main road.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay...well, you know how to get hold of us," Marcus said, trying to be encouraging.

"I do. And I will. Thanks again." Ben got out of the truck and began making his way off the road and into the farmland that made up the center of the valley.

"He seemed paranoid," Anson said.

"Yeah...I guess I wouldn't be too keen on inviting anyone over after a situation like that. Come on, let's get home," Marcus replied.

He turned the truck around and began heading back for the church.


	26. Chapter 26: Laid To Rest

By the time Marcus got back from his long drive, it was approaching six PM. He decided, as he parked into the gravel lot and killed the engine, that he was done for the day. Unless some kind of life-threatening emergency camp up, he was just going to kick around the church until it was bed time. He thought he'd earned it. He was tired, emotionally and physically. Hell, mentally and spiritually, too. He and Anson got out of the truck and headed for the front gate. Karen stood in the watchtower. She looked excited to see Anson.

"Hey, uh...do you need me for anything else?" Anson asked, glancing up at Karen.

"No, go hang out with your girlfriend," Marcus replied.

"Thanks!" Anson hurried through the gate and clambered up the tower. Marcus watched them embrace. He was still kind of worried about Karen. From what he'd gathered, she was a college girl, twenty-one years old, and a huge lush, apparently. Anson had seen her through the worst of her detox during the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, but he still heard her complaining from time to time about needing a drink.

He approached the church, leaving the two alone on the tower, and saw his own romance interest sitting on the front steps, smirking at him. He'd intended to walk in there, deliver the information he'd learned about the new enclave to Lily and be done with it, but now he stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at Maya for a moment.

"What?" he asked.

"Your best friend is in there with his girlfriend," Maya replied.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, come here."

Maya stood up and led him around to the side of the church, where, through the window, they saw Ed standing behind Lily, who sat at her radio desk. He was rubbing her shoulders.

"I'll admit, I wasn't too keen on it when it started," Maya said.

"Really? Why?"

"I dunno. I'm always reluctant to start up any kind of relationship in the battlefield where death is potentially around every corner."

"Oh yeah? What about now?"

"Well...after seeing Ed and Lily together, and Anson and Karen...I'm not so sure anymore. And, I guess, to be honest, I thought the age difference would be kind of weird. Ed's like, what, twenty five, twenty six? And Lily is nineteen...but I figured that I was projecting. I wouldn't want to date a freaking nineteen year old. Of course, Lily's no ordinary teenager. She's tough and I can see why he'd like her," Maya replied.

"Interesting...glad you approve of my best friend in the whole world," Marcus replied.

Maya poked him in the shoulder. "Come on, don't be grumpy."

"Sorry. Long day. And I fucking _hate_ dealing with the Wilkersons."

"Ugh, I _know._ They're horrible."

Marcus and Maya stared at each other as the silence fell. For a moment, Marcus thought he might suddenly work up the courage to say something, to ask her out and ask her for a kiss or... _something_. But then the moment passed. He sighed softly.

"I guess I should go in there," he said.

"Yeah, guess so," Maya murmured.

Marcus turned and made his way into the church. As soon as the door opened and he stepped in, Ed straightened up and they both acted like they'd been caught doing something they weren't supposed to. But at least they relaxed when they saw it was Marcus.

"Hey," he said amicably. "I thought I'd fill you in on that other enclave."

"Oh, that sounds great. Thanks, Marcus," Lily replied.

He spent the next ten minutes giving her all the data he could. She managed to pinpoint their location based off of the fact that they were living in a farm that belonged to a man named Bill. They were in the middle of several different fields, fairly isolated. Marcus stared at the huge map of the valley and had to wonder how many people were actually still alive and functioning that didn't belong to the military.

"So, anything happening? Anything that needs my immediate attention?" Marcus replied.

"Nope. Danica and Jacob are out on a scavenging run right now. Sam's making sure the place is well organized...and Ed was _supposed_ to be helping her..."

Ed heaved a sigh. "Well _sorry_ for coming and giving my girlfriend a back rub," he replied, throwing up his hands in mock frustration.

Lily laughed. "Hey, I don't mind, Sam might though. And you know how she is."

"Yeah, yeah." Ed leaned down, kissed Lily quickly on the lips and then set off to go find Sam. Marcus watched him go.

"So, how's it going with you two?" he asked.

"It's so great...I had a hard time finding boyfriends in high school. I know I'm not ugly, and on my better days I feel at least a little above average when I look in the mirror but...well, a lot of guys don't want to date a girl with lupus. I mean, even if I can convince them it's not contagious or anything, there's still this kind of connotation tied to it, you know? No one wants to get serious with the sick girl. And Ed...doesn't care. At all, in the slightest. He's a little goofy and immature, but I like him. And, well, honestly, it's nice to feel good after all the bad shit that's happened."

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. Well, I'm going to go grab something to eat and have a damned sit down," Marcus replied.

"Good. You should. You've earned it."

Marcus nodded tiredly in agreement and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

The rest of the day was mercifully uneventful.

Marcus managed to get to sleep easily enough and after waking and going through his morning rituals the following day, Maya approached him, carrying his backpack. She tossed it to him and he caught it easily.

"What's up?" he asked.

They were both standing outside in front of the gazebo.

"Big day today," Maya replied. "We need more food. Somehow, in all the chaos, we overlooked two of the most obvious sources. The Swine & Bovine and the Fork in the Road diner. Nobody's been by either of them, so you and I are taking a car out. You up for it?"

"Definitely," Marcus said, shrugging into his backpack.

They walked out of the church, passing Sam on the way out, who stood guard in the watchtower. They got into the jeep and began driving out into the city.

"So, how's things? Any new developments?" Marcus asked.

Maya sighed. "Not really. We're in kind of a holding pattern right now. Alice Miller and her crew aren't saying much. The guys down at the Tartan Mart are still paranoid and want to keep to themselves. The Wilkersons are still dicks. The Army...actually isn't in Spencer's Mill anymore. No one's seen them for the past twenty four hours. Lily has heard rumors that they're holed up in Fairfield, which I guess would make sense. Otherwise, there hasn't been any real information."

"Ben mentioned something about people over in Marshall..."

"Yeah, Lily mentioned that. She says that every now and then she gets a partial transmission from over there, someone talking about a gathering...something feels off about it though and honestly, right now, we're too busy to go chasing down every little thing. Like a said, a holding pattern...though, to be honest, I've got a feeling that that won't last."

"Why do you say that?"

Maya shrugged. "Dunno, just a feeling."

They pulled up to the Swine & Bovine. "Do you really think we'll find anything here?" Marcus asked as they got out.

"Not really, but think about it. What if everyone who's left is thinking, 'Oh man, the Swine & Bovine is so obvious that it's probably already cleared out.' So what if it's been ignored by everyone and there's still some food there?"

"Fair point," Marcus replied.

That unfortunately wasn't the case. There were about a dozen zombies lingering in and around the building. Marcus hefted his tire iron, Maya had found a shiny machete from somewhere. She got things kicked off by swinging the machete around in a tight arc that cleanly severed the head of the lead zombie. The head went bouncing away and the body stumbled for several steps until it collapsed to the blacktop.

They spent the next several minutes decapitating zombies and cracking skulls. Marcus realized, as he brought his tire iron down onto the head of the final zombie, a teenage man in a leather jacket and jeans, that he was getting disturbingly used to this. It hadn't even been that long, but how many zombies had he killed? Was he really comfortable with killing something that was once, not that long ago, a human being?

Marcus tried to shrug the issue off. He knew that he _had_ to be okay with killing zombies. There really wasn't an alternative. He and Maya spent the next several minutes clearing the Swine & Bovine of residual zombies. There were a handful hanging around, most of them in the kitchen and back storage room.

Once the zombies were gone, they began searching the building as thoroughly as they could. After several minutes, the silence began to unnerve Marcus.

"You know what I miss?" he asked suddenly.

"What? The internet? Taco Bell? Netflix?" Maya replied.

"All those things but...Breaking Bad, actually."

She glanced over at him. "What?"

"Breaking Bad. I never finished it. I got up to Season Four and had to stop halfway through to come on vacation here actually. I have no idea what happens."

"I'm happy, and sad, to report that it's all amazing," she replied. "Walter ends up-"

"Don't tell me!" Marcus cried. "...we might still find like a blu-ray of it or something lying around, you know?" he added when she stared at him.

"Yeah, and a blu-ray player that can run on something besides electricity?"

"We could find a generator."

Maya snorted. "Priorities, Marcus. You clearly have them."

They continued searching the Swine & Bovine and after nearly an hour, all they managed to come up with was a lot of packets of ketchup, mustard, mayo and salt and pepper. They stuffed it all into their packs anyway.

They headed back out of the Swine & Bovine, loaded back up into their vehicle and drove the short distance to the Fork in the Road Diner, across the way. As they got out and began crossing the lot, Marcus hesitated. He could see someone in the diner. At first he thought it was a zombie, but then he realized that whoever it was was sitting down and didn't seem to be a zombie. Still, he and Maya were cautious as they stepped inside.

As soon as they did, Marcus immediately recognized who it was.

"Alan," Maya said.

Alan responded by coughing. It was a violent, nasty, hacking cough that indicated something was seriously wrong. He didn't turn around to face them, instead he just kept sitting there at the bar. Marcus could hear him wheezing.

His ranger's hat was on the stool next to him.

"What do you want?" he asked. He sounded weak and tired.

"Just scavenging for supplies," Marcus replied cautiously.

"There's nothing here," Alan muttered miserably. Slowly, he raised his right hand. In the hand was a pistol. Maya and Marcus took a step back. He laid the pistol down on the counter in front of him. "I need your help," he said.

"With what?" Maya replied cautiously.

"I'm sick," he replied meaningfully. When neither of them spoke, he nudged the pistol. "It's out of bullets. We both know the cure. Same as Will."

Marcus felt a horrible coldness slowly consume his body. He looked at Maya and she stared back at him. Even as furious as he was at Alan, as much as he didn't like the man and he'd disagreed with many of his decisions...could he really bring himself to shoot this man? Even as a mercy killing? Maya must have seen it in his eyes.

Her face suddenly hardened and her hand fell to the pistol in its holster on her hip. She stared at him, as if waiting for something. He nodded, once, sharply. Maya pulled out her pistol and put it against the back of Alan's head.

"Is this justice?" Alan asked softly.

"No such thing," Maya replied.

She pulled the trigger.


	27. Chapter 27: Close Call

The next couple of hours seem to pass mutely.

Marcus was having a difficult time keeping his mind off of Alan and on the task at hand. He and Maya were making their way slowly across the small town of Spencer's Mill, deciding to check out a handful of houses that hadn't been marked off the map yet. Neither spoke very much during the first hour, both of them lost in their own thoughts as they picked through the wrecked, bloodied ruins of two houses next door to each other and then their garages. There wasn't much left in each, only a handful of food stuffs and, in one of the garages, a nice, sharp hatchet that looked unused that Maya seemed pretty interested in.

During the second hour, as they pressed on with their search, Maya seemed to try and get a conversation going, chatting idly about this and that, nothing really of any consequence. It took him a little bit to realize what she was trying to do, but he finally picked up on it. She wanted to get his mind off of what had happened back in the diner. He figured it was probably for the best. Lots of fucked up things were still yet to come, he was sure.

They were making their way to another house that hadn't been officially investigated yet when Marcus finally asked, "What did you mean when you told him that there's no such thing?"

Maya was quiet for a while, and he had to wonder if she was considering what to answer, or whether or not she wanted to answer him at all. She led him up the stairs of the front porch to the house they were prepping to investigate and she lingered in front of the closed front door for a long moment, still considering.

"A lot of people believe that there's this...force, in the universe. A sentient force that is keeping score, of everyone. God, karma, fate, divine intervention...there's a lot of names for it. But it's bullshit. It's all bullshit. I think a lot of it is willful ignorance. All you have to do is take one look around this miserable shithole we call a planet and know that it's total fucking bullshit. Good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people. Nobody gets what they deserve, they just...get what they get. And the thing is, I can actually not only understand but sympathize with the people who believe in this idea.

"Because the thing is...no one wants to get robbed, or get cancer, or lose their spouse in a bad car wreck, or any other million shitty things that can happen to us, and believe that it's just...random. Everyone wants someone to blame, or, at least, they want to be certain that who or whatever did the bad thing to them will get punished, in the end. They have to believe that the people who fucked them over will, themselves, get fucked over. But it's just not the way it works. Religion is just stories we tell each other to feel better about the fact that the universe doesn't care, or the fact that you can be the best person that ever lived and still get cancer, or you can spend your entire life trying to succeed at something and still die a failure.

"And that's why I told him that there's no such thing as justice...at least not on the sense he thought about it. Because of the fact that there is no god watching over us, we have to make our own justice. It's our responsibility to make good things happen, to punish the wicked and reward the good. Because if we as humans don't do it, then it won't get done."

"Wow," Marcus replied after a long moment of silence. "I see."

"Sorry if that got a little heavy," Maya replied. "It's just what I believe. Well, more like, it's what makes the most logical sense...come on, we shouldn't linger."

She opened the door and led the way inside. Marcus followed her. For the next several minutes, they did a quick search of the house, seeing if there was anything alive, (or, strictly speaking, undead), in the structure. They only found a single zombie hidden away in an upstairs bathroom. Marcus put it down with a quick, sharp crack to the head and then they began their more thorough search of the house for useful materials.

"What about you?" Maya asked while they searched.

"What about me what?" Marcus replied.

"What do you believe? I know of some places where my opinion would get me thrown out or worse," Maya said.

"I guess I believe the same thing, if I really think about it. I mean, that's the thing. I never really thought about it too much. I suppose I didn't really want to. If you linger too long on how fucked up the world is, you start to feel hopeless. But it makes sense."

They continued their search, moving through a ravaged living room and a cleared-out kitchen/dining room combo. Not finding much beyond a few errant cans of beans and rice and a bottle of water at the back of a cabinet, they moved on upstairs. As they did, Marcus caught a glimpse of a view out the window. He hadn't realized how late it was getting. The sun was pretty close to setting. It wasn't a good idea to be out and about at night.

"We should probably get a move on," he said, pointing the lowering sun to Maya.

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied.

They continued their search. Marcus noticed that the upstairs still seemed pretty intact. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom that, while empty of the most obvious things that could be useful, still had a lot of intact furniture and random junk. Marcus continued mulling over what Maya had said as he searched. She didn't seem like a happy person. It made sense, though. She'd lost two of her best friends not all that long ago. Plus, there was that whole zombie apocalypse thing going on. That tended to get a person down.

"I think that's it," she said as they finished up. "Come on, let's get back."

As they began making their way downstairs, Marcus suddenly heard a familiar sound. It set his instincts on edge and he walked quickly and cautiously to the nearest window after hitting the bottom of the steps.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, pulling his pistol out.

"No, what?" Maya replied, doing the same.

He frowned, studying the immediate area. It was a heavy breathing, an animal sound, that he remembered hearing that time they had fought that incredibly dangerous zombie in the field, the one with the long arms and greenish skin. Maya joined him at the window. He continued scanning the area, then moved on to the next window and looked out of it too. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

"I thought I heard-"

A loud roar cut through the air. Marcus spun around and saw, through the open front door, a long-armed nightmare racing straight towards them. Without thinking, he bolted forward and slammed the door shut, leaning his weight against it.

"Maya, the window-" he began, then a great weight was slammed against the door so hard it sent him sprawling back into the house.

The beast launched into the room, looking for murder. It focused on Marcus and he could tell it was getting ready to pounce on him like a cat pounces on a bird it's wounded. He prepared himself to get out of the way but knew he had a slim chance of survival at this point. Suddenly, its head snapped to the side and blood flew through the air.

Maya lowered a smoking pistol.

"Holy shit," Marcus whispered.

Maya hurried over to him and crouched down. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Uh...yeah, I think so." He sat up and groaned. Several parts of his body now ached painfully.

"Hold still, let me see if you broke anything," Maya said. She holstered her pistol and began running her hands over his limbs, asking him if it hurt. Ultimately, they agreed that nothing had been broken, but when he stood, his left ankle felt pretty painful. Maya frowned, crouching again and rolling up his pant leg and down his sock.

"Looks bruised," she murmured. With a sigh, she stood back up and glanced outside. It was getting very dark now, and not just from the sun going down, but also from storm clouds. Before long, it would be raining.

"Okay, it's too dangerous to head back. We'll just stay here tonight," Maya said, sounding suddenly resolute.

"Are you sure? I mean, I could make it back. Maybe we could find a car...it doesn't feel _that_ bad," Marcus replied.

But Maya was shaking her head, pulling out her radio. "Lily, this is Maya, come back."

" _I'm here. What's up?"_

"Marcus and I got attacked by one of the freaks, the long-armed one. We're okay, but Marcus' ankle is looking swollen. We're kind of far away and it's already pretty dark. We're going to stay the night in one of the houses."

" _Are you sure? I could send...ohhhh, okay. I get it. Well, good luck, Maya."_

"Thanks."

Marcus frowned. "What...did she mean by that?" he asked.

Maya shrugged. "Nothing," she replied.

But Marcus thought he could sense some kind of subtle interplay going on, like it was a joke everyone but him was in on or like they were planning a surprise party or something. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but right now, his ankle really was starting to hurt and it made focusing difficult. If he was being completely honest, the thought of not having to slog back through the city was extremely appealing.

Also, the thought of spending the night with Maya, away from everyone else, was equally appealing. He still didn't know how to approach her though. She was so...intimidating. She clearly knew what she wanted, what she was doing with her life. She seemed so determined. Why would she be at all interested in someone like him?

"Come on, let's secure the house. Then we can get something to eat," Maya said, dragging him from his thoughts.

He nodded and continued considering his conundrum while they closed and locked the doors, then retreated upstairs, selected one of the bedrooms, what must have been the parents' room, and closed and locked that door, too.

"Okay," Maya said, shrugging out of her backpack. "Let's eat dinner."

They ended up splitting a couple of cans of tuna, some crackers, a can of Vienna sausages that Marcus had found during their excursion today and a couple of bottles of water. For a little while, they simply sat on the bed together and ate. Marcus also found the time to down a couple of extra strength Advil to ease the pain in his ankle, and the rest of his body. As they finished eating, Marcus noticed that Maya seemed very preoccupied.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I...if you really want, I'm pretty sure I _can_ make it back to the church, I mean, you know, if you're worried."

"What? Oh, no. I'm not worried about staying out here. We'll be fine," she replied.

"Oh...then what's wrong? You seem...well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually seemed nervous. I don't think I've ever seen you nervous."

"I am," she admitted reluctantly.

"So what's wrong?"

She sighed, seemingly coming to a decision. "Do you...like me?" she asked.

"Uh...yeah. I do. You're pretty great-"

She shook her head. "No, I mean, do you want to...be together?" she asked.

"In what way, exactly, do you mean 'be together'?" he replied cautiously.

"Oh my god, Marcus! Do you want to have sex!? That's what I'm trying to ask! Do you want to have sex, with me, here, now?!" she cried, exasperated.

"Oh! I...uh...yes," he replied.

She laughed. "Okay, good."

She leaned in and kissed him.


	28. Chapter 28: An Anomaly

Marcus opened his eyes.

He found himself staring up at a pitted, old ceiling bathed in golden, morning sunshine. For a long moment, he didn't move, wanting to enjoy this. He felt _good_. It was probably the best he'd felt since stumbling out of that forest with Ed several weeks ago, finding that the world had gone completely batshit insane during their little vacation.

Maya shifted in the bed beside him.

He looked over at her. She was naked beneath the blankets. She was sleeping on her back and the blankets had fallen away, revealing some her bare chest. Her mouth hung open and she snored slightly. It was cute, and kind of endearing, but most of all it made him feel happy for her. Because he'd seen her sleep over these past few weeks, and she always slept on her side, scrunched up, like she was guarded, ready to wake up a moment's notice.

Of course, they were all like that, because there were zombies and worse things around. But it was nice to see that, just for once, she could sleep peacefully. She felt safe. He thought she deserved to feel safe, and happy...

Distantly, he heard the crack of a gunshot.

It was like a reminder that yeah, the world was going to hell in a handcart and yeah, he should probably get his ass out of bed. Obviously the sun was up and he'd slept in. As Marcus sat up and pulled the blankets back, he caught a whiff of himself and grimaced. It wasn't like they'd had running showers or even really a chance to bathe. Some of them had taken to washing themselves down with a wet cloth, the water garnered from water bottles. He'd done it himself a few times. He supposed now was one of those times.

He rolled over and scanned the room, wanting to be sure they were still alone. But the door was closed and intact, and he could hear nothing moving around in the house. Good. He reached down, grabbed his pants and fished out his radio. Time to let the church crew know that all was well, that he and Maya had survived the night.

"Hey Lily, this is Marcus. Just wanted to let you know that me and Maya are okay," he said, then he released the call button.

" _Good to hear...did you and Maya have fun?"_ Lily replied, her voice teasing.

Marcus frowned. Did she know? How could she know? "Uh...sure," he replied cautiously.

" _Good! You coming back? Something weird happened last night."_

"What?"

" _I'll tell you when you get back."_

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, we'll be back within the hour."

" _Okay, good. See you then."_

Marcus replaced the radio and rolled over. He saw that Maya was awake.

"Hey," she said, grinning at him.

"Hey...was last night like...planned? Does Lily know what happened?" he asked.

Maya laughed. "Well aren't you Mister Direct all of a sudden?" She shrugged, a little uneasily. "It wasn't exactly what you'd call planned. But I had joked with Lily about, you know, finding a reason to hole up for the night and really give you a chance to, you know, put the moves on me."

"Put the moves on you?"

Maya laughed and chewed on her lower lip. "I liked you. I _do_ like you. I just wasn't sure how you felt about me. I _thought_ you did but I didn't know for sure. I was hoping you'd, you know, step up. And you didn't, so I stepped up. I'm not really a patient person."

"I can imagine. To be honest, I like you a lot, you just intimidate the shit out of me."

Maya burst out laughing. " _Really?_ "

"Yeah. Why is that so hard to believe? You're in the Army for fuck's sake. You're fit, tough, strong, capable, smart, beautiful...you're like a fucking ten. On my better days, I might be able to pass for a six and a half."

"I don't know about all that...I'm a pain in the ass to live with, I snore, I don't really put up with bullshit, which is apparently required for a lot of relationships. I'm overseas for long periods of time...and hey, don't sell yourself short. You've got a lot of those qualities, too." She fell silent, trailed off, looking at him.

"So...are we...together?" he asked, figuring one of them should say something.

"I'd like to think so," Maya replied.

"Like, a couple?"

"Yeah. If that's what you want."

"Yes. I want that. You're probably the most amazing woman I've ever met."

Maya laughed again, and now she was blushing. "Come on, you're just saying that."

"No, really. You're something else."

"All right, all right, enough. I heard your talk with Lily, we really should get back. I'm curious to know what happened."

Marcus nodded and they both got up. As he started getting out a couple of bottles of water which where, thankfully, lukewarm, and a washcloth he found in a nearby bathroom to clean himself up, Maya figured he had the right idea. They also found some soap and began washing up. He took the opportunity to study her body. She really was extremely attractive. She was thin and very fit. Her muscles were clearly and obviously defined. She had taken very good care of her body. Maya smirked when she noticed him admiring her.

"So, this doesn't bug you?" she asked.

"What doesn't bug me?" he replied.

"This. My muscles. I know I'm not a bodybuilder, I'm built more for speed than for power, but I know some guys don't like that. They'd rather their women have flat stomachs rather than abs. What do you think?"

"I think you're smoking hot. I love your body. Also, uh...we didn't really talk about it, but, I mean, you didn't seem to mind that I didn't have any rubbers..."

"Oh. I figured if you had anything you'd have told me, otherwise I wouldn't have let you sleep with me. I also got some birth control surgically implanted, so I can't get pregnant and I don't have to hassle with pills or anything."

"Oh. Good."

"Yep. Very good."

They finished washing up and put on some deodorant, then got dressed in fresh changes of clothes they found in the house. They geared up, making sure their guns were loaded, safeties off, everything where it was supposed to be.

The pair of them stepped outside, onto the front porch, into the early morning sun.

"You ready?" Maya asked.

"Yep," Marcus replied.

"Then let's go."

They set off into Spencer's Mill, back towards their home base.

* * *

Marcus felt secretly relieved when he walked in through the black iron gates of the church and saw everything it should be. Karen was on watch, a pistol in her hand. She waved to them and they waved back. The pair made their way into the main room of the church, where Ed and Lily were sitting and talking.

Marcus and Maya began to unload the supplies they'd picked up.

"So, is it official?" Lily asked.

"Yep, it's official," Maya replied.

"Hooray!" Lily cried.

"You two finally hooked up?" Ed asked.

Marcus heaved a sigh. "Did _everyone_ know that you liked me?" he asked. "Was I actually the last person to know?"

"I'm sure...Danica didn't," Lily replied.

"Can we focus? What happened last night?" Marcus asked.

"Spoilsport..." Lily said. "Okay, so, last night we got this crazy weird call. It was like...a machine. Automated. It started spitting out coordinates or something. I thought it had something to do with the Army. Then Sam, who was out on watch, said that she saw something come crashing down from the skies somewhere behind the church. She said she thought it was a meteorite. I figured the message and the sudden appearance of something falling from the skies could be related and thought maybe it was like...supplies or something from the government? Or the military? I don't know. But I thought we should check it out."

"Sounds good, I'm up for it," Marcus replied. They'd eaten some breakfast bars on the way back and now that he had dropped off his excess supplies, he felt ready to take on the world. He looked at Maya. "What about you? Want to come along?"

"Yeah, definitely," she said. "Let's see what's up."

"You should probably take someone else, too...what about Jacob? He's been kind of mopey lately, and with good reason..." Lily said.

"Yeah, sure. Though...maybe it'll be a little weird, us just getting together and him losing his boyfriend," Marcus replied.

"We'll just tone it down," Maya said.

"Gonna be tough," Marcus said.

Maya laughed. "I know, but it's nice to be nice. Come on, let's get this show on the road."

* * *

Before long, Marcus and Maya found Jacob and told him about the mission. He seemed agreeable enough, so he grabbed his gear and they started making their way out of the church and into the forest, towards the 'meteorite'.

"So, Jacob, I think you really might be right about having to move," Marcus said as they made their way through the trees.

"Oh yeah?" he replied.

"Yes. Between us, the Wilkersons, the two enclaves out in the fields and those guys down at the mart, it seems like we're milking this town dry. I mean, I was just looking at the map...before we came and got you, we updated Lily on the houses we hit up yesterday. We hardly found anything. The map is getting full up of black xs, you know? Plus, it's obviously a more long term goal to get other people to join up. And the church is pretty small..."

"Hey, you don't have to sell me on it. Hell, I don't know why you're even getting my opinion. You two are pretty much in charge."

"Why do you think that?" Maya asked.

"Before you showed up, Alan was basically in charge. I mean, we all tended to argue, but he...had a domineering personality and seemed to know what he was doing. So he was kind of in charge. And then you basically dethroned him and then kicked him out."

 _And killed him,_ Marcus thought unhappily, but he supposed that was probably something Maya wanted to keep between just them.

"We're not really in charge," Maya said. "It's a community. Everyone's voice matters."

"Yeah, that's all well and good...on paper. But you and I both know that when it comes to getting shit done, organizing people, making stuff _happen,_ there's got to be a leader of some kind. And you're it. More you than Marcus...no offense," Jacob replied.

"None taken and...holy shit, that is a _lot_ of zombies," Marcus whispered.

They were approaching a clearing and there were close to twenty or so zombies gathered. At first, Marcus was prepared to slowly and quietly back away, but then he heard a loud, shrill beep cut through the air and he saw that the zombies were gathered around some kind of rectangular metal crate. It looked important.

It must have been what had fallen from the sky.

"Crap...what do we do?" Jacob asked.

Maya raised her pistol. "We shoot them."

Marcus figured it was a good an answer as any. He pulled out his own pistol, glad that he'd made sure to restock on ammo. Jacob did the same. The three of them advanced to the edge of the clearing and took a moment to aim. Maya called for them to open fire. Marcus squeezed the trigger and saw the head of the zombie he'd been focusing on snap forward in a spray of blood. He switched targets and fired once more, putting down another one.

Beside him, Maya and Jacob began working their way through the targets. The zombies realized what was happening and began making for them, but between the three of them, Marcus and his friends managed to put them down without too much trouble.

"Okay," Maya said, reloading and making her way into the clearing. "Let's see exactly what we've gotten our hands on..."

Marcus and Jacob watched her back while she set to work on getting the huge, silver, industrial-sized case open. The pair of them put down another few zombies that wandered up, drawn in by the occasional sharp beep the thing let out.

"Got it!" Maya said. As she did, the beeping abruptly died off. "Holy fucking shit...we hit the goddamned _motherlode!_ " she proclaimed.

Marcus turned and hurried across the clearing to join her. He had to admit, he was really at a loss for words. The thing was _packed_ with gear, all of it guns and ammo. He spied a pair of very nice pistols, a submachine gun, a short-barreled shotgun, lots of magazines and, taking up the most space, was what looked like a rocket launcher.

"Is that..." Jacob began.

"Yep. A goddamned rocket launcher. Holy shit," Maya replied. Already she was shoving ammo and some of the guns into her pack. "Grab everything."

Marcus watched over them while they geared up, then, when their packs and pockets were full, he shoved the rest of it into his own backpack. That just left the rocket launcher. They all started at it. "What should we do with it?" he asked.

"I dunno, it's really dangerous..." Maya replied. "But we can't just leave it here..." With a sigh, she reached down, grabbed it and slung it over her shoulder. "Let's put it to a vote, back at the church. Sound good?"

"Yeah," Marcus replied.

They started heading back.

* * *

"Whoa," Ed muttered as they laid the rocket launcher on the table in the main room. " _This_ is what you found out there?"

"Well, that and a shitload of guns and ammo," Marcus replied, setting his heavy pack down and opening it up.

"Jackpot," Lily whispered. "This should last us quite a while."

"Yeah. But we wanted to make a group decision about the launcher," Maya said. They'd called everyone in, except for Jacob, who agreed to take watch. He'd already given his vote: he wasn't quite comfortable with having it around.

"We aren't keeping it?" Danica asked.

"I think we should keep it...in case the Army finally makes good on its threats, you know?" Karen said nervously.

Marcus knew what she meant. The Army had been making some ugly threats over the radio during the past few days. He got the feeling that someone had been giving them shit, somewhere else in the valley. They hadn't actually seen anyone from the Army in Spencer's Mill for a little while now. Maybe they'd run into trouble in Marshall?

"I'm not so sure. A rocket launcher isn't quite the same as having a gun lying around. If it misfired or something went wrong, well...we could all die," Maya said. "I've been thinking about it, and I have an idea. I think we should wrap it in waterproof canvas and bury it not far from the church. That way, it won't be around to be dangerous, but we can get to it quickly if we really need it...what do you guys think?" she asked.

They put it to a vote, in ultimately everyone agreed, after a bit of debate. Maya grabbed the launcher and Marcus went out to find some canvas and a shovel. They left the church and moved to a tree off to the side of the church about twenty feet away from the wall. Maya wrapped and Marcus dug. They worked in silence until the job was done.

"Okay," Maya said, leaning in and carving something into the tree they'd buried it near. "There! Now we can find it easily."

Marcus leaned in to look at what she wrote. It was M+M inside of a heart. He let out a small laugh. "Wow...I uh...that's sweet," he said.

She smiled. "I can do sweet, you know."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"What's that supposed to mean?! You thought I was pretty 'sweet' last night."

"That was a different kind of sweet, but I appreciate it all the same," Marcus replied. He leaned in and kissed her. "Come on, we should get back."

They made their way back, holding hands, keep an eye out for zombies. However, as they came back into the compound and entered the church, Marcus spied Lily, Ed and Jacob talking with an unfortunately familiar man. He didn't know his name, but Marcus knew he was definitely one of the Wilkerson's guys. He wore a dirty white tanktop, ripped jeans and work boots, as well as a cowboy hat. He had a scruff of a beard, a nasty grin and was smoking a cigarette. He also had a shotgun across his back and a pistol on his hip.

"Marcus, Maya...glad you could join us. This...man, has a question for you," Lily said, making no effort to hide her distaste.

"Job wants to know if you'd be interested in overseeing a deal we're having with some of the folks out in fields. They want a...what you call it, 'neutral observer' to drive them to the meeting site," the man said.

"Why?" Marcus replied.

"Cause, for some reason, they don't trust us."

"Gee, can't imagine why," Maya muttered.

"And you couldn't have just...asked us over the radio?" Marcus asked.

"Job wanted a...personal touch," the man replied.

 _And a chance to spy on us,_ Marcus thought. He sighed. "Fine, when and where?"

The man reached into his back pocket and passed Marcus a paper. "Here's all the details. Thanks for the help. You folks be careful now, it'd be a real shame if something happened to this beautiful church..." he said, turning and leaving.

They all silently watched him go.


	29. Chapter 29: Darkening

Marcus sighed quietly to himself.

He didn't like this...but he liked the alternative even less. He also thought that it wasn't right that he had to be in such a bad mood on the day after he finally had gotten together with, if he was being honest with himself, the woman of his dreams. It was something he honestly hadn't even realized until he'd started thinking about it as he pulled out of the gravel parking lot of the church, but Maya was...everything he wanted in a woman. Smart, strong, independent. She didn't seem like she'd bullshit him with things like being overly clingy and jealousy. She was extremely attractive, she could look after herself, she clearly had a lot of willpower.

Was he in love?

Marcus shook his head and focused on driving. Too soon to tell about that. Or was it? Wasn't love supposed to come on really fast and strong? He heaved another sigh and stopped thinking about it. Maya was back at the church, keeping an eye out. Marcus was driving, alone, through the wasteland that had been Spencer's Mill. It looked more desolate than ever. There were more and more zombies cropping up and Marcus supposed that made sense. It was just the church group and the trio down in the Tartan Mart now.

Thoughts and worries of the future drifted through Marcus' mind. He got the feeling that things were going to come to a head soon, somehow, someway, they'd have to make some kind of decision. And those points in time, like nodes, could go either way, it seemed. But the dwindling resources and population of Spencer's Mill wasn't even the most obvious problem. Neither were the zombies. No, it was the Wilkersons.

How to deal with them?

Marcus couldn't help but feel that they were evil men and they were pretty much always looking for a way to stick a knife in your back. If you weren't with them, you were against them kind of mentality. How to deal with that kind of problem? He supposed the only real way was to do what he was doing now: watch your own ass and try to protect the people who wouldn't listen to reason. Like the people he was going to escort right now. They were Ben and his enclave, the man he'd rescued from the Wilkersons earlier, trading some of their own ammo for the man's life. Ben hadn't wanted to join up with the church group.

Perhaps Marcus could change his mind.

He came out of town and drove along the winding road until he came to the farm he was looking for. Three figures were waiting for him in front of the house. As Marcus pulled up, one of them broke away and walked up to the driver's side.

"So...they sent you? I didn't really peg you as one of the bad guys," the man, who Marcus recognized as Ben, said.

"Wait...what?" Marcus replied.

"I told the Wilkersons that we wouldn't do this deal without a neutral witness...and I also figured that they'd send someone to pretend to be one."

"I'm _not_ a bad guy. I'm not doing this for them, I'm doing this for you. Also, I'm not neutral. I'm _for_ you, I'm here to protect to you, to make sure the Wilkersons don't try to rip you off. That's the only reason I even agreed to this," Marcus replied.

Ben stared at him for a moment, then his features softened. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just...it's been a really hard couple of days. We've been fighting a lot of zombies off recently and we're low on ammo. It's the main reason we're even doing this."

"Why didn't you come to me? To us? We would have traded fairly with you. Also, the invitation to come stay at the church is still open..."

Ben seemed to consider all this. He glanced back at the others. "Well...we're kind of stuck in this deal right now, and it's a good one, actually, really good, which made me kind of suspicious, which is why I insisted on a driver. But after this deal, well...how about I come over for a visit tomorrow and we have an in-depth discussion?"

"That sounds like a plan," Marcus said, smiling.

Ben nodded and called one of the others over, a tanned, angry looking woman in her mid twenties. She had short blonde hair and wore a black t-shirt and ripped jeans. "This is Paula. That over there is Bill. It's his farm. Paula's coming along."

She just nodded to Marcus as she climbed into the back. Ben jogged back over to Bill, exchanged a few words and grabbed a bulky backpack. He hurried back over to the car Marcus was driving, tossed the backpack in the back seat and then got into the passenger's seat. Marcus waved to Bill, then pulled out onto the road.

They were heading for a little collection of buildings that was kind of like a little tourist trap. He'd heard of the place but never been: a small group of houses, a gas station and a store all built around a big metal dinosaur. They drove the way there mostly in silence. The trip didn't take too long. Marcus pulled in through a pair of open gates, built into the large, wooden wall that surrounded the place. Marcus began thinking about setting this place up as some kind of big outpost...until he saw the wooden wall was only on the front, not the sides.

The Wilkersons and one of their guys waited with a pair of pickup trucks. They all had guns of some kind, though not necessarily pointed at Marcus and his passengers. All three of them got out of the truck.

"Thanks for the escort," Job Wilkerson said, standing up from where he'd been leaning casually against his truck. He held an assault rifle. "You can go now."

"I think I'll stay...they'll need a ride back," Marcus replied, just as casually.

"We can drive them back," Job replied.

"No, I can do it," Marcus said.

Job lost all of his casual amicable attitude. Silence fell. A cold wind blew. Job hawked and spat. "You were smart, boy, you'd head on home now."

"Guess I'm none to bright," Marcus replied.

Job was openly scowling now. He stared hard at Marcus, then raised his hand and snapped his fingers towards his guy, the one Marcus didn't recognize. The man hefted the two rucksacks and walked slowly over to the car. He dropped them on the ground. They landed with heavy sounds. Ben stepped forward and passed the pack to the man. He took it, checked it, called that it was good and walked back to the brothers.

Marcus nodded to Ben to check the bags. He did, kneeling and unzipping them. He pawed through them for a moment. Marcus spied tons of guns and ammo. Something wasn't right. All these bullets and guns for a backpack of food? No wonder Ben had been suspicious. But it at least looked good. Marcus helped him get the bags into the car and he backed out and hit the road as quickly as he could, glancing into the rearview mirror periodically, expecting to see the two trucks burst out of the walled area, coming after them.

The trucks _did_ come out a moment later, but going the opposite direction, back towards the Wilkerson farm. Marcus wanted to feel like he'd just dodged a bullet but he just kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He drove back to Ben's farm and dropped him and Paula off. "Thanks," Ben said. "I really appreciate the help."

"Your welcome and...be careful. Maybe I'm just paranoid but...I dunno, I got a bad feeling about all this," Marcus replied.

"I'll keep an eye out, and I'll give you a call tomorrow. We can set up that meeting."

"Glad to hear it."

Marcus watched them go into their farmhouse, lingered uncertainly for a little bit longer, then threw his vehicle into drive and headed back home.

* * *

When Marcus walked through the iron gates, Maya was waiting for him.

"Hey," he said, walking up to her and kissing her.

She smiled and kissed him back. "Hey you," she replied. "So...how did it go?"

"Eh...good, I guess. I'm nervous though. The deal was way too good and Job wanted me to leave. He got really pissed when I didn't. I keep thinking something is going to happen, but I don't honestly know what."

Maya scowled. "Wonderful..."

They lingered there a moment longer. "So...something on your mind?" Marcus asked.

"Huh? Oh! Yes. I almost forgot. I'm worried about Karen. She hasn't really left the church yet and I think it's affecting her confidence. She's actually done really well, all things considered. She takes orders well, she never argues, she hasn't had one drink as far as I know, though she claimed to be an alcoholic before all this. She's adapted well but I think she needs one last push to really...come into herself, you know?"

"I'm surprised you didn't take her out shooting or something," Marcus replied.

"Well, I would, I just..." Maya hesitated.

"You don't want to leave this place undefended, huh?"

"No, I don't. Heh. Guess Jacob was right...we are kind of the de facto leaders. Not sure how I feel about that, but if it gets the job done..."

"Just so long as we don't become dictators...all right. I noticed that the trailer park across the way hadn't been checked off the list yet."

Maya nodded and her features darkened slightly. "Yeah...getting to be a really short list. Still figuring out how exactly we should deal with that..."

"If it helps, I talked those three in the farmhouse to come have a sit down with us tomorrow, maybe see about pooling resources."

"Really?! Great! That's a step in the right direction at least. Maybe we should have a formal meeting tomorrow."

"Sounds good. I'll go find Karen."

Maya nodded, kissed him once more, wished him luck and then they parted ways. Marcus made his way slowly through the settlement that he and the others had been building. It was nice to feel like he was part of a community. To _actually_ feel like he was part of a community, and not in that vague, feel-good way huge cities like to say. However nice it was to pick up some trash on the highway, rebuild a house or clean up a park, you were still just one in a hundred thousand...here, Marcus was one in less than a dozen.

Every single person's contribution made a noticeable impact on the little society they had going. It was a little stressful in the sense that they couldn't afford to have any slackers, but honestly he thought it was actually better this way, because _everyone_ got to step up and do something that mattered, and ultimately it made them happier, more content with themselves and their lives. That was probably especially important given what was going on around them.

He found Karen in the basement, organizing the medical supplies. "Hey, Marcus," she said. It looked like she was finishing up. "What's up?"

"Well, I was getting ready to hit up that nearby trailer park, looking for supplies, and I wanted someone to go with me, watch my back," Marcus replied.

"Oh...was Maya busy?" Karen replied with a smirk.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "You gonna give me crap for getting together?" he asked, not unkindly.

Karen laughed and moved to join him. They walked up out of the basement together. "No way. I think it's very nice. The world is crap...especially now. You've got to find pleasure and happiness where you can. Like my favorite rapper once said, 'Eat, drink and be merry...for tomorrow you may die.' You know what I mean?"

"Your favorite rapper...wait, that's from Slacker, by Tech N9ne."

"You listened to him?!"

"Yeah. Definitely...shit, I hope he isn't dead. That'd suck if he was a zombie."

"Big time," Karen agreed.

Once they were both sure that they were armed and ready to make a scavenging run, the pair left the church, deciding to take the Jacob's blue pickup.

"So how are things around the church?" he asked as they drove.

"You don't know? You seem to know more about it than I do," Karen replied.

"I know the big stuff, but I'm out a lot and...as you pointed out, busy with Maya now. I can't keep track of all the details."

"Well, I'm not exactly a details person myself. Plus, I've been spending a lot of time with Anson. Although I've kind of...bonded with Danica. We were both drinkers and she's a little bit like the older sister I never had. She's doing better, I think, than she was before. She talks more and she's a lot less pale than when I first arrived. I was worried about her..."

"That's good! See, that's what I'm happy to hear. Everyone's important in our group, everyone's necessary," Marcus replied.

Karen sighed. "That's what worries me. I used to...well, kind of fade into the background, you know? It was easy, I guess. Not much pressure. My parents never really did anything with their lives and I don't think they cared too much what I do with mine. I don't want to say they were crappy parents or anything, they just...I think they cared more about themselves than anyone else. Including me. No one expected anything of me, and when they did, it made me nervous. I'm so scared of letting people down and now there's only like a hundred people left in the whole fucking valley and that makes _everyone_ important..."

"And that scares you," Marcus replied quietly.

Karen nodded.

"I know it's scary, believe me, I get scared shitless a lot, but...even setting aside the fact that we need you to step up and get the job done, whatever the job might be, I think you should do it for yourself more than anyone else. I mean...yes, the community _does_ come first now, we all have to work together to stay alive and all that, but that doesn't mean you lose your individuality. And, let me tell you, getting shit done feels _good._ I don't really know how else to describe it, but...okay, good example, when I was younger, and I first moved out on my own, I used to get so anxious and worked up over all sorts of little things.

"Like, for example, changing my address. I tried to do it online but something went wrong so I had to go to the actual post office to do it. It's like, super simple. All I had to do was go in and request a change of address form. But I kept putting it off, worried that I'd get lost on the way there or the way back, or that something would go wrong somehow once I got there...all sorts of weird worries. Eventually, after about a month, I did it, and it was easy. And I felt _great_ when I did it. In fact, I liked the feeling so much, I just made that my policy to try and put aside my worries from then on and just...do what needed doing."

Karen laughed. "It's that easy, huh?" she asked.

"No. Not easy...but it _is_ simple. I know all about not having much confidence, most everyone does, and I learned that generally, all you have to do is try. You'll fail, sure, but not as often as you think. And even when you do fail, you just try again."

"I'll keep it mind and...thanks. For talking with me. I'm used to everyone else kind of just passing me over. Well, when they aren't trying to sleep with me," Karen replied.

Marcus pulled into the small trailer park. There were about ten of the trailers set in two rows, one on either side, with a small gardening shed at the back. A few zombies milled about. Marcus and Karen got out.

They set to work.

* * *

Marcus leaned forward and placed an X over the trailer park. As he suspected, there hadn't been much there. Just a can of gas tucked away beneath a porch, some cans of food and bottles of water and a shotgun with a handful of shells. Everything else was either broken, spoiled or just stuff they really didn't have a use for. He and Karen had continued with their pleasant conversation until they'd gotten back to the church.

As Marcus straightened back up and replaced the sharpie, he frowned. There really were a ton of Xs. Actually...he leaned in and really studied it. There were only two places left that hadn't been searched. Two houses.

"Is this accurate?" he asked.

Lily, who was sitting at her radio, reading a book, glanced up. "Uh...yeah, far as I know. Why?" she replied.

"God, there's only two places left we haven't searched..."

"Sam and Danica are actually out right now doing just that. They should be back before too long," Lily replied. "But yeah, I know what you mean. Maya said we're going to have to have a meeting about what our next move is tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it," Marcus said.

"I suppose I am too. I'm just...nervous. I mean, I know some people want to move to Marshall but...what if we get attacked along the way or what if there's nothing there or there's too many zombies..." Lily replied.

"We'll be smart," Marcus replied. "We can send scouts, prep the next home site. Don't worry, we won't rush blindly into anything."

Lily smiled. "I guess that's true. I'm glad we have you and Maya."

"I'm honestly just glad that I have Maya," Marcus replied.

He yawned suddenly. It was evening now. They'd have dinner soon. In the meantime...Marcus set out to find Maya.

* * *

They had dinner. Time passed and night fell. Though they couldn't really find any place to be...private, he and Maya decided to share a bed. That was probably another big motivation to find a bigger, better place. Privacy. They had three couples here now. That would definitely add to the tension, Marcus imagined.

But he couldn't sleep.

He laid there in the starlight, (they were sleeping outside, in the tent they'd set up way back when), tossing and turning.

"Are you okay?" Maya asked.

"No," Marcus replied. He sat up suddenly. "I'm not." He stood.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to check on something."

"Let me come with you."

"Okay."

She followed him out of the tent and around the side of the church. They hurried up the front stairs into the main room. Marcus found Lily asleep with her feet up on her desk. He gently reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

She shifted and came awake. "Huh? Oh...Marcus, Maya...what's up?" she asked, yawning and stretching.

"Would you do me a favor and get in touch with Ben's enclave?" Marcus asked.

Lily sat forward and began working her radio gear. "Yeah, sure. Any particular reason?"

"I dunno, just...worried," Marcus replied.

She nodded, found what she was looking for and started calling out to them. No one responded. Seconds went by, then minutes.

"I'm not getting anything," she said quietly.

Marcus sighed.

"They could be asleep..." Lily suggested.

"Something's wrong. I'm driving out there to check on them."

"I'll come with you," Maya said.

"Okay...be careful, guys."

"We will," Marcus promised.

He made sure to grab some extra bullets, then the two of them walked out of the church, across the courtyard and into the parking lot. They got into the jeep and pulled out, driving as quickly as they dared through the night. Marcus felt his pulse quickening. Neither him nor Maya spoke as they made their way out to the farm. They didn't pass anyone on the road save for a few wandering zombies. They managed to reach the farm without incident. As Marcus killed the engine, he kept the headlights on, looking for signs of trouble.

There were no lights of any kind on in the farmhouse, but that didn't mean anything. He stepped out, pistol at ready, and Maya joined him.

"Hello?" he called. "Anyone there?"

They waited a moment, but the silence remained, heavy and forbidding. With a sigh, Marcus pulled out a flashlight and flicked it on. "Come on, let's get this over with," he muttered.

Maya followed him up the porch. As soon as they approached the front door, they saw something was wrong. It was open, and, he realized, it had been kicked open. The lock was smashed. Marcus took a few cautious steps into the living room.

He swept his flashlight across it. "Holy shit..." he whispered.

"Good lord," Maya muttered. "You were right to be paranoid..."

"The Wilkerson's did this, I fucking _know_ they did. That's why the deal was so good...they gave up like two huge rucksacks of ammo for a backpack of food...because they were just going to steal it all back!" Marcus snapped.

"Let's see if Ben and the others are still alive," Maya said.

They slowly searched the house.

They didn't find anything good.

They found Ben and Paula, both of them shot in the head, in one of the bedrooms. They found the other man, Bill, also dead, his chest a bloody ruin, in another bedroom. It was also obvious that the place had been ransacked. No food, no water, no guns or ammo. Everything of survival value had been stripped out and stolen.

Slowly, almost as if in a daze, Marcus and Maya went back to the jeep, started up the engine and started driving back home.

"We have do something about this," Maya said quietly. "We have to."

"We will," Marcus promised. "Tomorrow, we'll figure something out."


	30. Chapter 30: Collapse

Someone was screaming.

Something was burning.

A gunshot cracked.

Marcus' eyes snapped open and he sat up so fast and hard that he hit his head on the bunk bed above him. He cried out as pain shot through his skull and he fell back onto the pillow, but Maya had gotten in last, so she was closer to the edge of the bed. She rolled out of it and was on her feet in a second, a pistol in her hand. Marcus, much slower, joined her, reaching down and almost instinctively grabbing and shrugging into his backpack. He scanned the area as he pulled out his pistol, looking for some kind of threat.

The church was burning.

For a second, he simply sat there and stared. He just couldn't believe it. He felt dumbstruck and dislocated, as if he was watching a movie of a fire or like he was a disembodied presence. One corner of lot was entirely engulfed in flames and Marcus realized that that's where they had been storing their gasoline. The front of the church was also alight and catching fast.

" _Marcus!_ " Maya screamed, shoving him. "Get moving! Come on!"

She shot off past him and he began to follow her but he heard the others stumbling into awareness behind him. Jacob suddenly appeared beside him.

" _LILY!_ " he screamed and set off towards the front.

Marcus reached out and grabbed him. "The back! Go through the back, the front is burning!" he yelled.

Jacob fought him for a second, then his words took hold and some semblance of logic came over him. Together, the three of them followed Maya around the back. Just as they arrived Maya was yanking the back door open. A pair of figures stumbled into her. Marcus identified them quickly: Lily and Karen.

"Anson is in the main room!" Lily screamed, coughing.

"Jacob, Ed, get whatever you can from the kitchen!" Maya screamed. "Lily, Karen, go down to the basement and get the medical supplies! Marcus, come on, we've got to get Anson!"

She shot forward, into the church. The others followed her in. Immediately Marcus felt the heat and was lost in a sea of smoke. He started coughing and followed Maya through the kitchen and into the main room, only to stop short. The entire room was filled with smoke and half of it was on fire. Marcus could just barely see a dark figure on the floor, engulfed in flames. Anson. He felt sick. This was happening too fast.

"Get back!" Maya screamed. "Get back, it's too late!"

Marcus stumbled back into the kitchen. Already the flames were chasing them, the whole church going up. The pair of them managed to shove some cans of food and bottles of water into their packs before being forced back outside, where they spied a group gathering.

"Where's Anson!?" Karen cried.

"Karen...I'm so sorry..." Marcus said, then trailed off, unable to speak the next words.

"He's dead," Maya said. "The fire got to him."

Karen moaned sickly and fell to her knees, covering her face, sobbing. Marcus felt some measure of control returning as his dislocation truly set in, letting him think clearly. He did a quick headcount. Danica had emerged from the basement, a backpack in hand, looking wide-eyed and dazed. He realized that someone was missing.

"Where's Sam?!" he asked.

"I...uh...she was on watchtower duty!" Maya replied. "Jesus, come on, we can't go back in there, we have to get out of here."

They hurried around the burning church and barely made it in between the gazebo, the tent and the side of the church. Both side structures had caught alight as well. How could it all be burning so _fast_? Marcus spied a dark figuring lying on the ground next to the watchtower. In the distance, he thought he could hear an engine revving. He hurried over to the figure lying on the ground and dropped to his knees. It was Sam, she was bleeding from her chest. She moaned weakly as he shifted her. It looked like she'd been...shot.

"Marcus?" she asked weakly.

"Fucking hell, Sam...Danica!" he cried. "I need help!"

The others joined him. Ed moved forward and opened the gate. Maya, Danica and Jacob helped Marcus begin to clear Sam from the yard. Something inside the church suddenly exploded, throwing them all to the ground. Marcus lurched to his feet, feeling as if he might be on fire himself but as the initial heat wave from the blast fell away, he realized he was okay. Maybe he might have some blisters, but he was otherwise undamaged.

Jacob hadn't faired so well, unfortunately. He saw the man had something sticking out of his back, a piece of wood. Working fast, he and the others helped get the two wounded out into the gravel parking lot. Danica, looking harrowed but focused, shrugged out of her pack and set to work. Marcus straightened up and looked back at the church. The whole thing was aflame, lighting up the area for miles no doubt.

He had just begun to feel like he'd gotten through the worst of it when he heard a familiar groan from somewhere nearby. He spun around. Several dark forms were approaching the gravel lot from the left...and ahead...and from the right. There had to be dozens of them.

"Zombies! Lots of them!" he cried, getting his pistol out.

He only had the ammo he had on him. Not good.

"Pick your shots carefully!" Maya called. "Danica, keep working, we'll protect you!"

Marcus, Maya, Ed, Lily and Karen all formed a protective circle around the wounded. Marcus forced himself to focus. He needed to, or they'd all die. He took aim at the first zombie making its way towards him, took a deep breath and opened fire. Its head snapped back and a spray of gore escaped it. It collapsed to the ground. He shifted his aim and fired once more, tearing away a good portion of the next thing's skull.

Around him, he could hear the others firing with what little ammo they had left. Marcus was careful, and he'd become a good shot over the past few weeks. There had been plenty of reasons to practice. He landed every single shot he had in his pistol and put down every zombie he hit. And still they kept coming. Marcus let his gun drop and pulled out his melee weapon: a crowbar. It wasn't the same one he'd found back on Mount Tanner, that one had gotten too beat up. He'd found a replacement a few days ago.

As he rushed forward, he heard the other gunfire fall silent. The survivors fell to their more reliable weapons. Marcus tried to be precise and careful with his movement. All it would take was one misstep and suddenly the zombies would close in. He started off by bringing his crowbar around in a tight arc, slamming its end into the lead zombie, a woman in a cop uniform, her mouth open, dry blood caked all around it, eyes glowing a malignant, ominous yellow. She fell and he brought the crowbar down hard on the next one.

As that zombie collapsed from a caved-in skull, Marcus kept swinging, adrenaline pumping through him. His muscles began to get sore and he was starting to get covering in old blood and bits of skull and brain.

Suddenly, there were no more zombies.

Marcus took a deep breath and let it out. That's when he heard a roar cut through the air, followed by a rapid breathing that seemed to be getting louder. In the flickering firelight, he spied one of the freak type of zombies, what he had started thinking of as a feral, racing up the incline to the left of the church, coming right towards him.

He hardly had time to scream a warning and duck as it leaped through the air, intending to leap onto him. He heard Ed shout in surprise and pain. Scrambling to his feet, he saw the thing had landed on him. Marcus sprinted forward in a raw panic and threw himself onto the beast, forcefully dislodging it from where it had Ed pinned to the ground. It kicked him with an insane strength and he cried out as he flew through the air and slammed into the side of one of the vehicles. As he slumped to the ground and struggled to regain his feet, he heard several gunshots. By the time he was up and getting his breath back, he saw that Maya had shot the monstrosity in the head. Several times. Marcus took a look around. They seemed to be alone at last.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked, limping forward.

Everything ached.

"I don't think Sam's going to make it," Danica said, sounding very distant. She was sitting over Sam, her hands bloody, medical tools and supplies around her. Marcus came to stand over the two of them, staring down in slow horror.

Sam reached up. "Marcus..." she whispered. She looked deathly pale.

He crouched down. "Sam...don't try to talk, you need...to rest," he said softly, unable to stop glancing down at her bloody chest.

"I saw it, Marcus," she whispered. "I saw-" she hacked up a gob of blood, spat it onto the ground. "-saw it all. I saw who did it. Who shot me and threw the Molotov cocktail."

Marcus felt a cold stone settle into his gut. "Who, Sam?" he asked.

She reached up and took his hand. "It was Job Wilkerson."

Suddenly, she exhaled, one, long breath. And didn't inhale. Her hand fell away from his. Just like that, she was gone.

Sam was dead.

Marcus stared at her for a long moment. Danica had stopped working. Slowly, she turned to Jacob, who was still lying on the ground, a piece of debris sticking out of his back. She pulled it out, causing him to scream hoarsely in pain, cleaned the wound and the bandaged it. Marcus knew it had to be true, but he felt frozen, unable to move or say or do anything. Abruptly, Danica stood up. He heard her sigh. It sounded like a tired, resigned sigh.

He glanced up.

"I'm sorry," she said, not looking at them.

"Danica, what-" Karen began.

Danica pulled out her pistol, put it in her mouth and squeezed the trigger.

" _DANICA!_ " Karen shrieked. She bolted forward and caught Danica's body as it fell. " _Danica no! No please god why?!_ "

All at once, Marcus felt a cold, sharp clarity descend on him. He stood up, all emotions kicked completely from him. Save for one.

Fury.

He snatched up his pistol.

"Maya," he said sharply. She was staring at Karen. " _Maya!_ " She snapped her head around. "Get everyone down to the Tartan Mart. Grab whatever supplies we brought with us."

"Why, where are you going?" she asked.

But Marcus had already turned and was racing off. He sprinted across the lot, hopped the log fence that had been built around it and ran into the forest, towards the tree where Maya had carved their initials into not that long ago. Once he was on a certain mound of disturbed dirt, he dropped to his knees and started digging with his bare hands. By the time he'd found what he was looking for, he heard footsteps that barely registered.

He looked over.

"I sent them off," Maya said. "I'm going with you."

He didn't want to argue with her. Instead, he said, "Help me with this."

Together, they pulled the tarp out of the ground and opened it up. Maya grabbed the launcher and slung it over her shoulder. Without a word, the pair of them hurried back to the gravel parking lot. Marcus just caught sight of taillights as he hurried over to the red jeep. Everyone else had piled into Jacob's truck.

"How was Jacob?" Marcus asked as he started up the car, slammed into reverse, backed up, repositioned the car, threw it into drive and peeled out of the parking lot.

"He'll be fine," Maya replied.

Neither said anything as they drove through the dead city, hitting the occasional zombie. They left city limits and hit the winding dirt road. The only time Maya said something was to point out a good place for them to park without being seen. Marcus parked and killed the engine. They both got out and began making their way quickly through the dark woodlands, hurrying towards a good position by the farmhouse.

Eventually, they settled into position just behind the Wilkerson's decaying barn. Maya passed Marcus a pair of high-powered binoculars. He didn't ask where she'd found them, instead, while she started prepping the launcher, he put the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the house. There were several sources of light and he could see people moving around inside. Slowly, he began identifying and counting them off. The Wilkerson brothers were definitely there, and he counted three more of their cronies.

It looked like they were celebrating, drinking and smoking and laughing.

"I count five," he said quietly.

"That's all of them," Maya said. She held out her hand. "Here, give me the binoculars." He passed them to her and she stared hard at the farmhouse. After a moment, she nodded to herself. "Yeah, I memorized their fucking faces while we were there. That's all of them, as far as I know. Good. We'll get them all," she growled.

Maya set down the binoculars and picked up the launcher. Marcus waited, watching, staring hard at the house.

A second passed.

Two seconds passed.

Maya fired.

The rocket shrieked from its dark, metal nest and hardly a second passed between its launch and its final destination. The farmhouse literally exploded, going up in a brilliant fireball that shot a great orange and red plume of flame into the skies. Marcus covered his eyes and felt the heat wash over him. Maya dropped the launcher and picked back up the binoculars. The pair of them continued crouching there in the darkness for several seconds.

"You've got to be shitting me," she said, suddenly standing.

"What?" Marcus replied, standing as well and following as she took off.

"One of them _survived,_ " she replied, incredulous.

The hurried up the hill, guns in hand, freshly reloaded. Part of Marcus knew that they had to get the hell out of there, the sound would draw more zombies, just like last time. But part of him didn't really care anymore.

They found the survivor on the ground, his body smoking and partially blackened, his clothes melted to him. He was alive, but only just, hanging by a thread. All of his hair had been burned away, but Marcus still recognized him.

Job Wilkerson.

He was crawling feebly away from the farmhouse, moaning sickly in pain. Marcus walked up to him and kicked him over onto his back.

Job cried out.

Marcus leaned down. "Tell me, Job, does Aeschylus have anything to say about this particular situation?" he asked, sneering, feeling mean and nasty and several degrees below zero.

"Kill me," Job moaned.

"You reap what you sow," Maya replied. "I say we leave him. If he's lucky, he'll die of shock before the zombies start eating him alive."

Marcus stared hard at Job, considering the matter. Finally, he sighed. He found that he didn't really have much 'serial killer' in him. He didn't like to see people suffer, even people who deserved it. So he raised his pistol and fired once.

"Come on," he said, suddenly very tired, on the verge of total exhaustion. "We have to get back to the others and..." He wasn't sure what to do after that.

"Figure out what to do next," Maya replied.

Together, they walked away from the inferno, back into the darkness.


	31. Chapter 31: Darkest Darkness

They managed to make it to the Tartan Mart without any real trouble. Neither of them said anything the whole way back, both Marcus and Maya lost in their misery and sorrow, in thoughts on the horror that had just befallen them. Marcus pulled up next to Jacob's pickup, which was empty now, and killed the engine. Then, he simply sat there. They both remained motionless, staring straight ahead through the dirty windshield.

Several minutes passed in a slow, horrible silence.

Marcus jerked as someone tapped on the window. He looked over and saw Lily. She looked terrible, her face blackened from soot, her eyes wide and bloodshot from crying, her hair and clothes a mess. She was hugging herself fiercely.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, barely audible through the window and the closed door.

With a sigh, Marcus opened the door and stepped out. Maya joined him. "They're all dead," he replied simply.

"Oh. Good," Lily said, sounding distant.

"How's Jacob?" Maya asked.

"He's fine. He's sleeping. We gave him a bit of morphine...what do we do now?"

"I need a minute to think," Maya replied softly.

They left the parking lot and went into the Mart. Marcus looked around. He spied everyone in his crew...everyone left alive, that was. Jacob was lying on a double-wide mattress pushed up into one corner, next to a couple of magazine racks. He was lying on his side, his shirt off, a bloodied collection of gauze wrapped around his midsection. Karen sat next to him, her knees hugged to her chest, rocking gently back and forth, her gaze suggesting that she was totally gone. Ed was leaned up against the front counter, a bottle of water in his hand, his own gaze distant and lost. Maya started pacing and Lily went to sit with her brother and Karen.

Marcus also spied two other people who made up the three-person team that ran the Mart. Logan, who normally looked on the edge of anger and physically intimidating, instead looked defeated and exhausted, smoking a cigarette with a haggard expression. Daisy stood next to him, both of them leaning against a far wall. Marcus felt control reasserting itself again. He knew that they had to do something, that they had to move on. For now...he just wanted a minute of fresh air. But he decided to multi-task.

He caught Logan's eye and nodded his head towards the front door. Logan looked at him for a moment, then turned, said something quietly to Daisy, who nodded, and moved to join him. "Gonna step out for a minute," Marcus said.

"Okay," Maya replied, still deep in thought.

He and Logan stepped out front. Logan took a long pull on his cigarette and let the smoke out in a thick pall.

"I heard what happened," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry...what happened to the Wilkersons and their nasty crew?"

"They won't be bother anyone anymore," Marcus replied.

"What does that mean? Did you shoot one of them? Scare them?...kill them?" he asked.

"None of them will be bother _anyone_ anymore," Marcus said firmly.

Logan nodded. "Huh...well, good riddance to bad rubbish," he muttered.

"We're leaving Spencer's Mill," Marcus said after a long moment. "We're going to Marshall. There's this big trucker place we were scoping out. It looked good. Huge, fenced in, lots of room for expansion. Only thing is, there aren't all that many of us. We could really use your guy's help, and your resources," he explained.

For a moment, Logan said nothing. Then he sighed. "Sophie died earlier today," he said quietly. "One of those long-armed freaks got her. We killed it but...ugh, the damned thing ripped her in two. So it's just me and Daisy now, which sucks, because honestly, Sophie was the only one of the three of us that really had our shit together. She ran the Mart. On top of that...we're running kind of low on resources. We don't have much."

"I'm sorry," Marcus said quietly. "But you'll join us?" he asked.

"Yeah. We'll come. I'm sorry we didn't earlier. We were just...scared. Sophie had actually talked us into joining today. We were going to call tomorrow," Logan replied.

"It's fine...well, we should get started. Sooner the better."

Logan nodded. He flicked what remained of his cigarette into the darkness. They went back into the Mart. "Okay, listen up," Marcus said, garnering everyone's attention. "We're all moving to the truck stop down in Marshall. We're doing this right now. Logan and Daisy are joining us. We're going to load up everything into the truck and the jeep and we're going to make one stop along the way, at Alice Miller's farmhouse, to ask if they want to join as well. Once we're there, we'll start setting up shop. Any questions?"

There weren't any questions.

Marcus nodded. They set to work.

* * *

Marcus was on autopilot now.

He felt nearly mindless and numb as he helped the others load everything into the jeep and the truck. The job took about an hour, the work slow and painful in the darkness of the night. Jacob couldn't help at all and no one tried to rouse Karen, who was still hiding her head, burying it in her knees, arms wrapped around her legs. When they finished, they stretched Jacob out in the back of the jeep, where they'd put the back seat down and left an aisle of space open for him. Maya and Marcus got in the front seats while the others piled into the truck, some of them sitting in the back of it with the stuff they'd packed up.

They pulled out of the Tartan Mart and hit the road, making one stop along the way at Alice Miller's farmhouse.

Marcus saw her come out onto her front porch as he stepped out. She was holding her shotgun, but when she saw him she lowered it. "What's going on?" she asked. "We heard an explosion and thought we saw a huge fire coming from Spencer's Mill."

Marcus hesitated. While he didn't regret taking out the Wilkersons, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted everyone to know that. They'd worked hard on their reputation and it might not be prudent to let it be known that you were bloodthirsty if one of your neighbors was the fucking US Army. "We had a fire," he said. "A bad one. Everything's gone. We lost three of our people. I don't know what the explosion was...maybe the Army finally got sick of the Wilkersons."

"Hmph, wouldn't that be something? They deserve it...I'm so sorry to hear that, Marcus. What will you do now?" she asked.

"We teamed up with the people from the Tartan Mart and we're making for Marshall. Far as we can tell, there's nothing left in Spencer's Mill. And I honestly don't know how much is left in the farmlands, either," Marcus replied. "Will you join us? We could sure use the help and a pooling of manpower and resources would be a benefit for both of us."

Alice slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Marcus. We're staying here. The Army's been sniffing around lately too and I told them the same thing...though in a much less polite way. We're...doing well for ourselves here. But...I like you and your friends. Why don't you come inside? I can give you some supplies, for your new home."

"I'd really appreciate that," Marcus replied.

He told the others what was happening and followed Alice into her home. The place was very nice inside. He saw three other people in the living room, who looked like they'd been waiting. He recognized Sam Haney, the man he'd rescued from the Wilkersons way back when. The other two looked like a couple. He wasn't sure how he could tell that, just that the idea struck him. Sam introduced them both. The tall, well-built, athletic man with short dark hair and a beard was Ryan. The stunningly beautiful, petite Hispanic woman who seemed to have anxiety problems was named Izabella.

Marcus nodded to them both and they nodded back. A moment later, Alice returned with a rucksack. She passed it to Marcus. "Some food and bullets," she said. "A bit of medical supplies, too, whatever we could spare. I'm so sorry about what happened."

"Thank you, very much. We all really appreciate it. If you ever want to trade for anything or if you decide to come join us, the radio's always on...or, it will be, once we get it set up again."

"We'll be in touch," Alice replied.

Marcus went back outside, got into the jeep and started driving again.

* * *

Several worries had cropped up in Marcus' harrowed, haunted, exhausted mind on the road to Marshall, so he was immensely relieved to discover that the truck stop was just as they left it. Empty. There were a few zombies milling around, but the place looked otherwise abandoned and intact. They parked the vehicles out front.

"Someone should stay with Jacob and Karen," Marcus said.

"I'll do it," Lily said. "I'm good enough at shooting to defend, but I probably won't be much help in there."

"Okay. Everyone else, make sure your guns are loaded and you're focused. We'll move in, clear out any zombies, then bring the stuff inside and hole up for the night."

Everyone responded positively. Marcus led Maya, Ed, Logan and Daisy in through the front gates of the huge, barbwire-topped chainlink fence that surrounded the truck stop. They quickly took out the handful of zombies lingering in the broad blacktop of open space between the building itself and the fence. Then they took out the zombies that emerged from the darkened structure. Once silence fell again, they entered through one of the two immense garage-style doors that were both open to the world, admitting access.

Marcus mentally mapped out the area while they searched it.

Most of the initial first room was taken up by a huge, open area that was largely comprised of two big bays meant to hold full rigs. One of the bays was taken up by a rig missing several of its tires. They'd probably have to work on getting it out since it was just dead weight and taking up precious space. Along the back wall were two rooms, though one of those rooms had walls of chainlink. It was packed with tons of shelves and tables, all of them filled with tools and spare parts meant for making repairs to vehicles.

The next room was more of an open-faced office scattered with furniture and papers. One door led into the rest of the complex. The door led to a large, upside-down and flipped over L-shaped room that had three more doors in it. The one to the left led to a bedroom, the one dead ahead led back outside and the one to the right led to another bedroom that had a large bathroom attached to it that came complete with three toilets and two large shower stalls. Once they were sure the area was clear, Marcus led the others back outside.

They hauled everything in to the first bedroom, made sure to lock all the exterior doors and then divided among the two bedrooms, which had just enough beds for everyone...given that some of them were bunking up together.

Nobody spoke about setting a guard. They were too tired.

Marcus was out as soon as his head hit the pillow and he laid an arm over Maya.


	32. Chapter 32: From the Ashes

The next two days passed slowly, painfully.

Everyone awoke the next day around noon. Outside, it was gray and rainy and unchanged from the previous night. One of the first real discoveries that was made, as they set about cleaning out and straightening up the truck stop, making it their home, was that the bathroom attached to the bedroom _worked_.

They learned that the truck stop had its own supply of water and its own filtration system. It wasn't perfect, it wouldn't last forever, but the tanks were buried in the ground beneath the truck stop and they were enormous and almost full. More importantly, the water was _clean_. They also didn't rely on electricity, but rather used natural gas to heat them. All they had to do was relight the pilot light. At that point, everything stopped.

Every single person took a nice, long, hot shower in the two shower stalls. Although it was later decided that you got half an hour shower time for each week, to be divided up at the user's leisure, everyone was allowed to shower for at least half an hour. Everyone washed up, taking their first real showers in a month. Everyone then changed into new clothes and then decided they needed to have a group meal together.

They gathered in the L-shaped room, which looked like it had been an area to eat and make food in, as one part of it was dedicated to counters, a sink, dishwasher, stove and fridge. There was nothing of much real use in the kitchen area, but they broke out what food they had between them and everyone sat down together and ate. The conversation was slow at first, but eventually Lily and Jacob started relaying a story of a crazy fight they once got into over who got to watch TV, during which they started wrestling over the remote, which resulted in several broken dishes, a broken coffee table and the neighbors calling the police.

That seemed to get things going. Marcus talked about the time he very nearly got caught skinny dipping in a rich neighborhood while he was in high school. Karen even talked about the time she'd very nearly got caught screwing in her high school bathroom. They all told stories from their past about the stupid shit they did.

When they were finished, Marcus noticed something. It was almost imperceptible. The showers, the meal, the new place...it didn't make what happened right, it didn't cure their depression, their horror, their anxiety...but it was a step in the right direction. Possibly most importantly, it was the first step on the path to recovery.

To happiness.

After the meal, everyone moved with a bit more sense of purpose. In the L-Shaped room, they cleaned and straightened up and found another radio rig with a store of industrial batteries that Lily could use to reach out over the airwaves once more, as she had grown so fond of doing. On the wall, Marcus pinned his copy of the valley map that he'd been updating with black xs, to replace the one that had been lost in the fire.

The smaller bedroom, it was decided, would belong to the couples, for the sake of sanity. They would switch out every night. Marcus and Maya would get the first night, Lily and Ed the second, Logan and Daisy the third, and this pattern would repeat. The main bedroom already had four beds in it, which became six uncomfortably close cots when they took the two extras out of the smaller bedroom. They made plans to set up a second sleeping area in the main room and also try to find some bunk beds, since they'd worked so well in the past.

They decided that the open-faced room next to the machine shop, overlooking the primary repair bays, would serve excellently as an infirmary. While Marcus, Lily and Jacob set to work on getting it cleared out and set up, Maya, Ed, Logan, Daisy and Karen began gathering materials and starting construction on what would be their new watchtower, to be set up just to the left of the main entryway in the fence.

Work proceeded fairly smoothly.

The first day came to a close. The infirmary, bedrooms and Lily's workstation had all been set up. Everyone went to sleep, with Ed and Karen agreeing to take night watch in shifts. When the second day came, it was just as gray and rainy as before, but Marcus noticed that everyone moved with a certain energy that hadn't quite been there the first day. Everyone worked, more or less without serious breaks, for thirteen solid hours.

They managed to find enough wood and barrels to construct a reasonably solid watchtower. When that was done, under Jacob's watchful gaze, they started to repair the immense bulk of the semi trailer taking up precious space in the main repair room. They managed to get the wheels on it and fix the engine enough to drive it out into the street and a little ways down, so that it was out of the way. Marcus lamented that there hadn't been anything of value in the trailer itself, but that was life sometimes.

After that, the rest of the day was spent cleaning out and organizing the repair bays and laying the groundwork for the second bedroom area, as well as a more permanent dining section, of which the repair bay room had more than enough space for. Then they preformed a thorough inventory of all their food, water, guns, ammo, medical supplies and anything else they might need. There had been some of that stuff stashed away in their new home, but not much. By the time the inventorying was finished, it was nightfall.

Everyone went to bed. Jacob tried to offer to stay up for night watch, but Lily made him go to sleep, since his wounds were still healing, and would be for some time. She and Logan took the night watch that night.

Marcus and Maya got the private bedroom, and made good use of it.

* * *

Marcus opened his eyes.

The back of Maya's head, her dark hair a mess, came into focus. He felt a strange mixture of emotions as he came awake. Regret that he couldn't sleep longer, almost overwhelming happiness at waking up next to Maya, the pain and depression of loss, the eagerness to get the day started, as there was so much to do...

That's what decided him.

He shifted and began the process of getting up. As soon as he did, Maya woke up as well. "Hey handsome," she said, then yawned, then covered her mouth. "Ugh, god, sorry. I'm sure I've got bad morning breath."

"It's fine, beautiful," he replied, kissing her on the forehead.

"Oh _wow,_ we are so lame," she said. "I know I'm stupid for you because I don't actually feel embarrassed about it."

"Well, I'm stupid for you, too," Marcus replied.

They got up out of bed and gathered up a fresh set of clothes, of which there had been a fair stash and half-decent assortment of scattered across the two bedrooms. They crossed the hall into the other bedroom, where a few people were still in the process of getting up. A glance outside told Marcus that it was probably around nine or so in the morning. A fine time to wake up, though he would have liked to be up a little earlier than that.

They made sure the bathroom was empty, then locked the door and put it to use, each of them using up five minutes of their allotted weekly half an hour as they showered together. Marcus was genuinely tempted to throw caution to the wind and use more time for sex with Maya, because she looked ridiculously hot naked and wet, but he managed to control himself and they finished up, toweled off and dressed.

After brushing their teeth, the two headed out and began rousing the others to get ready, since they had another long day ahead of them. While they were getting up, Marcus and Maya went out into the main room and found Lily at her desk, happy as a clam, talking with someone over the radio. The pair raided the kitchen area for a couple of bottles of apple juice and some breakfast bars, then joined Lily at her communications suite.

"What's up? We got new neighbors?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah. Well, sort of," Lily replied. She quickly finished up her conversation in the radio, then stood and moved to the map that Marcus had set up. She pointed. "There's a group of survivors set up just outside of town, in another truck stop like ours, only bigger, with more buildings. They call it the Grange. They seem nice enough but...they keep telling us about our other neighbors," Lily said, pursing her lips, sounding less than thrilled.

"What about them?" Maya asked.

She pointed again. This time, to the other section of Marshall. From what Marcus could see, the city of Marshall was organized into roughly a large, oddly shaped rectangle. And it was cut down the middle by a river and a couple of bridges. The truck stop they were currently making their home resided to the far left of the city, and where Lily was pointing, the courthouse apparently, was to the middle-right, on the opposite side of the river.

"Judge Lawton," Lily said. "I'm not entirely sure what the story is, but she and what remains of the police force, including the county sheriff, have set up their own little society in the courthouse. They want everyone to come to them, but they keep asking people to stop 'looting' and give up their guns. She's nuts. Becca, that's the girl that I'm talking to over on the Grange, she keeps warning us that they're going to try and make us join them. But I haven't heard anything from any cops so far...it kind of makes nervous, though, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean," Maya replied. "Never did get along with cops."

"You're in the Army," Marcus pointed out.

"Exactly. Cops will mostly leave you alone if you're in the service. Mostly. I used to get hassled all the fucking time just for being a Mexican chick," Maya replied, clearly frustrated.

"Is that all of them?" Marcus asked. "Our neighbors?"

"Yeah. Just those two and Alice Miller and her crew, out in the farmlands," Lily replied.

"What about Doc Hanson?" Maya asked suddenly. "I haven't heard from him at all in a little while now."

"Oh! Yeah, I talked with him earlier today. He's been staying at Alice Miller's farm recently, considering, well, there's no one left in Spencer's Mill," Lily replied.

Marcus studied the map. A huge portion of it, the whole middle basically, was just farmland. Lots of shacks and sheds and barns and farmhouses out there. Big potential for food, and guns, and, well, lots of stuff really. He imagined that Alice Miller and her people had been scavenging there, and so had Ben and his enclave...until they were murdered by the Wilkersons and been robbed...who had in turn been killed by him and Maya, so any potential supplies that might be recovered was gone. Marcus turned away from that thought.

They'd have to start scavenging the farmlands as well as Marshall.

"What about Fairfield?" he asked.

"Far as I can tell, that's military ground zero," Lily replied, sitting back down. "They have the place locked down tight. Only way in is across a pair of bridges and, on top of that, Fairfield is the only comfortable way out of the valley."

"Fantastic. I guess we'll just focus on Marshall and the farmlands for now," Marcus replied.

He and Maya quickly discussed what they should tackle for the day, then went and gathered everyone in the radio room, save for Maya, who went to take over watchtower duty. Marcus felt strange as he addressed everyone. He was in charge now, him and Maya. The events of the past few days had kind of solidified that idea, in his mind and, he imagined, in everyone else's. It was a strange thing, to be in charge.

Not particularly a good thing, either.

He started off by giving the stated goals of the day. The first one was that they needed to start sealing off all of the non-essential entrances to the building, to make it less easy for zombies or...anyone else, to get inside, and that included both of the huge, garage-style doors in the bay, as well as any and all windows, of which there were surprisingly few. He also said that they needed to start searching the nearest buildings, which consisted of a pair of industrial supply warehouses, a mini-mart, a gas station and a Swine & Bovine.

He warned them about the cops and Judge Lawton, and when he mentioned the farmlands, Karen spoke up. "I want to search the farmlands," she said, her voice quiet but firm. She saw Marcus hesitating at the idea. "I can find another truck on my own, I won't take too much with me. If something goes wrong, you won't lose much."

"Karen..." Marcus began, hesitating further.

"Marcus, please. I need this," she said softly.

Marcus sighed. "Okay, fine. Just...stay in radio contact, update Lily every fifteen minutes," he replied.

"Okay."

He wasn't sure how to feel about it, and he was positive Maya wouldn't like it, but he had an idea that she was right. Good or ill, Karen needed this. Needed to be alone, to sort out the tragedy of loss that her life had become. Not only had she lost her lover, but also her new best friend, Danica. To suicide. The miserable medic had killed herself in front of them all. Marcus wrapped up the meeting and then asked Ed to come outside with him.

They walked out front, into the morning sun.

"You know, it just hit me," Ed said as they stood on a concrete loading dock.

"What?" Marcus replied.

"It's only August now...that's crazy. I mean, it was July when all this started and now it's August. We've been at this for weeks now. Close to a month...I think. I'm not sure, actually. It's really hard to tell time, but I realize that it must be sometime in August. It feels like it should be...I don't know, November, at least."

"I know exactly what you mean. Feels like it's been months," Marcus agreed.

"So, what'd you need me for?"

"Something...a bit grim."

"Oh, what is it?"

"I want to go back to the church, bury the dead and see if anything survived. Give how stretched thin we, one person is all I think I can take with me."

"Ha, and you wanted me to help you bury dead bodies?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, I guess so...and besides, you _did_ volunteer us for the running of the bulls..."

"You can't keep using that!" Ed replied. He sighed. "Okay, let's get it over with."

They set off.

* * *

After updating Maya on everything, the pair of them got into the red jeep they still had and drove out of Marshall, along the winding road that ran a ring around the middle farmlands, and into Spencer's Mill.

"How are things with you and Lily?" Marcus asked as they drove.

"Great, actually. I mean, aside from the whole...three of our friends just died and our home burned down thing," Ed replied. "We've been spending a lot of time together. As much as we can. She's really cool. She also makes me really glad I had that vasectomy."

Marcus laughed. "Wow, come on man. Too much info."

"Oh yeah, how are you and Maya handling it? I can't imagine you've come across some abundance of condoms or birth control."

"No, Maya has that birth control implant," Marcus replied.

"I see. What about you and her? Going good?"

"Yeah. Great, actually. We're pretty stupid over each other. I've been thinking that it's kind of ridiculous that it took a fucking zombie apocalypse for me to find the perfect woman."

"She's perfect?" Ed asked.

"Well, you know, she's got flaws, I guess, but she's perfect in that I don't care. She makes me happy and I just feel so...connected with her."

"I know how you feel. Me and Lily are like that, too."

They both fell silent as they pulled onto the dirt road that led up to the church. They drove into the empty lot. Marcus killed the engine and they simply sat there for the moment. From where he was parked, he could just see Sam's body. Danica's too. They'd left them there in their hurry to escape the fire and abandon Spencer's Mill.

"Come on," Marcus said quietly. "Let's do this."

It took close to an hour, but they did the task, grizzly as it was. They found a pair of gloves in the back and used them to carry Sam's and Danica's bodies to the back lot, where Pastor Will was buried. A pair of shovels had survived, mostly unscathed by the fire, so they set to work on the miserable task and buried the two bodies. Then, as they were searching through the burned wreckage, they found Anson's charred remains and did their best to bury him, as well. Unfortunately, they didn't find anything of use in what was left of the church.

Before heading back, they stopped by the Tartan Mart to see if they'd missed anything there during that fateful night and did discover a backpack of food and water stashed away beneath the cash register. Marcus took it, put it in the back and then started up the engine once more. Silent and contemplative, the pair headed back to Marshall.


	33. Chapter 33: Rebuilding

Two more days passed.

Marcus pulled the machete blade from the skull of the final zombie. Well, he _hoped_ it was the final zombie. And pulled wasn't quite the right word, pried was more like it. Somewhere behind him, Logan was moving around.

"That's it," he said. Marcus glanced over his shoulder. Logan was closing the door they'd come in through. "There's no more."

Marcus nodded, crouched and wiped the blood off of the blade onto the shirt of one of the zombies. Then he sheathed the machete and looked around. He and Logan were checking out an industrial supply warehouse. It was the fourth, (and final), one on their side of the river. At least as far as Marcus could tell. The one behind the truck stop hadn't panned out. It'd been basically empty. The other two after that had yielded some results, but not much. This one, on the other hand, looked like it had actual stuff in it.

Stuff they could use.

Silently, he and Logan began picking through the supplies, making sure it was actually worth a run. They wouldn't be the ones hauling it back to the home site. They were just scouts for today. Well, for a little bit longer. They had to haul from their final location, which came after this one. Marcus took everything in. There was a ton of stuff simply along the wall he found himself looking at right now: a big red toolbox on wheels, a construction sign, some tall thin tanks of something, another two signs, one that read _one lane road ahead_ and another that read _pipe laying in progress_. There were also a couple johnny-on-the-spots, one of which had toppled over, and a few pallets of generic construction supplies that would be useful.

"This looks great," Logan said.

Marcus turned and looked. The man was standing over a collection of more pallets, all loaded down with all kinds of supplies. This would help them a lot.

"Yeah, a good haul," Marcus agreed. He moved over to the window and looked out it. As he scanned for zombies, he thought back over the past forty eight hours. It had bee a busy, hectic two days. It hadn't really felt like days, honestly. More like hour after hour of hard work. Most of it spent clearing out the buildings around the truck stop, killing any zombies that showed up and inventorying their supplies.

Marcus felt reasonably sure that the area was safe. He pulled out his radio. "Okay, Marcus here. The site is secure. Send some runners for pick up."

" _They're on their way, Marcus,"_ Lily replied.

"Come on, we should go. I want to get home," Marcus said.

Logan nodded. The pair of them headed back outside and got into the red jeep they'd taken for today's activity. There was just one more place they had to go after this, then they could go home. There was a gun shop nearby that was a 'must check out'.

"So what did you do before all...this?" Logan asked suddenly.

Marcus glanced over at one of their latest additions. Logan and Daisy had sort of just fallen in with the group after they'd given up their home in the mini-mart in Spencer's Mill. Marcus had initially been worried about their hostility, particularly Logan's, because he'd been harsh and closed off during their infrequent visits back when everyone had still lived in the church. But they both seemed to have integrated into the group nicely.

"I was just an office drone. Boring shit behind a desk all day," Marcus replied. "What about you?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that...I was trying to be a boxer again. I had something good over in Danforth just out of high school. I was a boxer, and I was good at it. Lived the life for about three years and then...I dunno, something just kind of fell away. I lost the spark, you know? I kept losing, no one wanted me around anymore. I moved out here. Before the boxing, I was going to be a plumber. I was good at it, actually. My dad was one, and my uncle, and they were both trying to get me into the 'family business'. They both lived out here, which was why I moved back. So that's what I've been doing. Just last year, I started getting in shape again, heading out to Danforth every now and then to train, maybe try and scare up a match. And now all this happens..."

"Man, that's crazy. I've never known anyone who boxed before. That must've been tough," Marcus replied.

"Yeah. Definitely tough. Lots of training, lots of practice, lots of workouts and lots of getting your ass beat. But it was worth it. Lots of fun, too. Great people, usually. They know how to party. Always got the money," Logan said.

They pulled into the front parking lot of the gun shop. "You ready?" Marcus asked, killing the engine and pocketing the keys.

"Yep," Logan replied.

They stepped out of the jeep and made their way to the front entrance. The plate glass front window had been broken out, but Marcus couldn't see anything moving around inside. He carefully pushed the front door open, which had obviously been kicked in at some point. The place was smashed up and wreathed in shadows. As Marcus took a step inside, something growled. Something dangerous. Something not normal.

"Oh _shit-_ " he began.

A feral suddenly launched itself up and over the counter. It pounced onto him and they both went flying back out the way he'd come in through, crashing to the gravel parking in an explosion of pain. Marcus fought viciously to get the thing off of him. He could hear Logan shouting but everything else except for this monstrous freak atop him had sort of faded away for the moment. The thing's ugly, yellow-green face was in his, jaw snapping, teeth clicking together as it tried to bite his fucking face off.

In a burst of strength, he managed to shove the thing up and get his feet up and planted firmly against its malformed chest. He shoved as hard as he could, throwing the thing bodily off him. Sucking in a lungful of air, he shouted, " _Shoot it!_ "

Several gunshots filled the air as Marcus scrambled to his feet, driven by adrenaline. He was going for his own gun, but he saw that the thing was dead, Logan standing over it, smoking pistol in hand. Shaking, the man turned to look at him.

"You okay?"

"Uh...yeah, yeah," Marcus replied, patting himself down. Nothing felt broken. Everything ached, and he probably had some cuts on his back from that landing, but he seemed okay. He took a deep breath and let it out. It was all too easy to go from perfectly okay to almost dying out here. He needed to pay more attention.

Working slowly and steadily, they made their way through the two stories of the gun shop. A handful of zombies lingered and were put down with relative ease. Marcus felt a bit dislocated, a bit shell-shocked, but managed to get his job done. They spent half an hour combing over the area, finding scattered shells and bullets and the occasionally magazine, and were almost ready to call it a day when Marcus saw something odd in an upstairs office. A bookshelf had been shoved to the side, partially exposing what looked like a false panel in the wall behind it.

He and Logan moved the bookshelf, pulled away the panel and found a snub-barrel shotgun, three pistols and a duffel bag of ammunition for both. Feeling it at least somewhat vindicated about everything that had happened and their time spent here, the men took the supplies down to the jeep. Marcus checked his watch. He'd found a wind-up watch that still kept the time and although he had no way to tell for sure, it seemed to match up to the position of the sun. Right now, it was a little bit past two in the afternoon.

Just as Marcus was turning the key in the ignition, something rounded the corner of the gun shop, coming towards them.

Something they hadn't seen before.

"What the _fuck_ is that?!" Logan cried.

It was hideous. It walked on legs that were too long with spindly, wasted arms. Its skin was a dull, ugly gray and it had a large, open, gaping mouth. What was most obvious about it was its stomach, which had taken on a bloated, distended appearance. It was coming for them, eyes wide and pitch black and pitiless.

Marcus threw the car into reverse and leaned out the window, pistol in hand. He aimed and fired off several shots. One of them took the thing in its fat stomach. It was like he'd thrown a grenade. The thing _detonated_ and sprayed the front of the jeep with decayed gore and viscera. Immediately a thick miasma began to fill the air, an awful, reeking yellow mist that seemed to cling to the jeep. Marcus and Logan both started hacking and coughing violently. Marcus hit the gas, reversing onto the street, until he slammed on the brakes.

Throwing it into park, both men got out of the car, which seemed to be a new source of the reek, and stumbled away from it. Marcus tried to see through the tears that were being driven from his eyes. It smelled _horrible_ , like a square mile of raw sewage and dead bodies.

"What was that?!" Logan cried, continuing to cough.

"Something new, another mutation," Marcus replied through gasps.

When their breath came back to them, both men looked at the jeep, the front of which was still covered in reeking, rotting flesh.

"I'm not driving anywhere in that," Logan said firmly.

Marcus sighed. The man had a point. He looked around and saw a red SUV nearby. He walked over to it and opened the front door. There was no one inside and the interior looked pretty clear. The keys were even in the ignition. Hoping against hope, he took a seat and started up the car. It kicked to life. The gas tank read almost empty, but it would be more than enough to get them back to the truck stop, where they could put more gas in. Marcus killed the engine, got out and moved over to the jeep. He left the key for it in the ignition, then, with Logan's unhappy help, transferred the supplies from the jeep to the SUV.

Once that was done, they began heading back home.

* * *

"What happened to the jeep?"

Marcus glanced over. Maya was standing at the front gate. She pushed it up and stepped out to join them as they unloaded the gear.

"Encountered something new," Marcus replied. "Some...bloated thing. Blew up when I shot it. Got horrible smelling crap all over the jeep."

"Ew. Nice," Maya said.

She helped them get the stuff inside. Once Logan had dropped his portion of the supplies off, he made his way somewhere else in the truck stop, presumably looking for Daisy. As Marcus and Maya began sorting through the supplies, he got updates.

"The third bedroom is done," Maya said. "We set it up in one corner of the main room, hung some sheets, like in a hospital, for privacy. All the extra doors are locked down very firmly. We're about as secure as we're going to get. I've also had a chance to finish up the fence, for the most part. It's in surprisingly good shape and I've made some minor repairs to it. I want to go over it once more but I think it'll hold together just fine."

"That all sounds great. I see there's a bunch of xs over there on the map," Marcus replied, glancing over at the map on the wall.

"Yeah. Not exactly a good thing. I mean, we've been searching houses and stuff like crazy but most of them turn out to be empty. That's why it's going so fast," Maya replied. "And Karen's actually making great progress out in the farmland, but...I'm worried about her. We've hardly seen her at all. She just shows up, unloads the stuff, grabs some bullets and food and water and then heads back out. She doesn't talk to anyone."

"She'll be okay...I think," Marcus replied. "What about supplies? Have you managed to finish up the inventory?"

"Yeah. Based off how much we have and our rate of consumption, we've got about a month's worth of supplies," Maya replied.

"I see," Marcus murmured.

As they finished sorting through the supplies Marcus and Logan had found at the gun store, Lily called out to them.

"It seems we have some company out front. They want to talk to you, Marcus."


	34. Chapter 34: Meet the Neighbors

"I hear tell you're the man who gets stuff done."

Marcus stared at the two men before him. All three of them stood in front of the gate next to the watchtower. The men had introduced themselves as Jack Ferris and Bob Macklin. Jack seemed amiable enough. He looked to be in his forties, he was tall and athletic in a rangy kind of way. There was an ease to him, a calm certainty that came from certain men who were used to doing everything themselves, and competently. He admitted to running the Grange, which was what they called the truck stop just outside of town where his crew was staying at. He wore a form-fitting t-shirt and cargo pants with work boots and carried a machete and a pistol.

The other man, Bob, seemed somehow shady and mistrustful. He was tight-lipped and he seemed uncomfortable. He had a thin figure, though not very athletic, with shaggy brown hair and angry blue eyes. His face was narrow and seemed of the variety that sleazy used car salesmen wore. He had a shotgun across his back and a crowbar in his hand.

"Bob Macklin...there's something incredibly familiar about that name," Marcus replied.

The man suddenly broke into a smile. "Well, I was a lawyer in Danforth," he said. "Quite successful, I might add. You may have seen my commercials..."

Marcus shook his head. "No, that's not it. It's that name..." Suddenly, he had it. "Now I know! Parks and Rec! Burt Macklin. That was the name of that stupid FBI persona that Chris Pratt created. Oh man, that's hilarious."

"Yes, riveting...I didn't watch Parks and Rec," Bob replied glumly.

"So, what needs doing?" Marcus asked, giving his attention to Jack.

"One of our own has gone missing. He's been gone since last night. All we have to go on is that he was in town, on this side of the river, over in a cul-de-sac of houses. We were going to go ourselves, but when Becca, the other member of our group, mentioned it to your radio operator, she suggested that we ask you for help."

Marcus considered it for a moment. He felt relatively ready and raring to go, he had supplies on him, and he knew where the place was.

He nodded. "Okay, yeah. Sure. You've got a car?" he asked.

"We do," Jack replied, pointing at a big black four-door pickup truck. "My own personal vehicle. Bought it just last year, brand new."

"Damn. Very nice," Marcus replied.

"I thought so as well. Come on," Jack said. "You can ride shotgun, show us the way."

They all got into the truck. As they began driving, Marcus picked up their story. There were four of them out at the Grange. The missing man was named Quentin. He'd been an employee at the Grange. Bob's car had broken down and he'd heard that Jack Ferris had the best mechanic shop in town, so that's where he'd brought it. He was still there when the zombies struck. Becca was apparently a girl in her early twenties who had just kind of showed up one day. They were doing pretty well for themselves, but Jack knew that they couldn't last forever on the supplies they had. So they'd started heading into town to look for more.

Quentin had apparently gone on his own last night, looking to hit up the cul-de-sac for food, water, maybe some building materials. Apparently talking with Lily had given them the idea to build a watchtower all their own.

They didn't really run into too much trouble on the way up there, but as soon as they drove up the road into the area with the houses, Marcus knew there was going to be trouble. The area was basically laid out like T, with the road they had to drive up being the base. It was at an incline, leading up to a large shelf of land that overlooked the rest of the town. Two short streets that ended in cul-de-sacs extended away from the top of the first lane. Marcus counted seven houses, one of which was just skeletal, in mid-construction.

A large cluster of zombies was off to the left. He saw a pair of what everyone had started calling 'screamers', the armless freaks with the bulbous gray heads, mixed in. The zombies had seemed interested in a nearby shed but now that the car had arrived, they had taken a dire interest in the newcomers instead.

"Everybody out!" Jack called.

Marcus all but leaped out of the truck. He had his machete ready to go. He, Jack and Bob were careful, not getting too close to each other, letting the zombies come to them. Marcus brought the machete down into the skull of the first one, cutting through the bone and slicing into the gray matter, killing it instantly. He ripped the blade out, reared back and brought it around in a tight arc, completely severing the head of the next zombie.

The men kept this up for a solid five minutes. Marcus made sure to kill the two screamers almost as soon as he could, pulling out his pistol and shooting them both in the head, to prevent them from gathering any more damned zombies to the assault. It was difficult enough as it was, but before long, the last zombie fell and all three men waited, scanning the immediate area. They relaxed when they saw they had killed the last of the zombies that had any kind of direct interest in them. A few more still wandered in the distance.

"Come on, let's hurry," Jack said.

They came off of the street and up the short driveway of segmented concrete that led up to the little detached garage. Marcus opened the door, stepped in and looked around. There was the usual collection of garage stuff: metal shelving, stacks of boxes, gardening tools, a lawnmower...and a guy, crouched in the corner.

"Who are you?" he asked, sounding wary.

"Marcus. I brought some friends of yours," Marcus replied, stepping out of the way. Jack stepped in behind him.

"Hey, Quentin. Thought you could use some help," he said.

Quentin let out a big, relieved sigh. "Oh my _god,_ you have no idea how good it is to see you. Thought my ass was done for. I, uh, found some gasoline," he said.

"We'll help you get it out to my truck. Come on," Jack replied.

Marcus helped them by making sure no more zombies came up to chew on them while they loaded a few canisters of gas and some building material into the truck.

"You should come back with us, see the place," Jack said as they all got into the truck.

"Sounds good to me," Marcus replied. "So...you guys notice that there seems to be more of the weird kind of zombies around?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Yeah. We call them freaks. They're creepy and dangerous," Jack replied.

"I wonder what's up with them. I mean, where do they come from? Why do they exist?" Marcus asked.

"It'd probably help to know how this whole thing got started," Quentin murmured.

To that, no one had any answers. They all kept their own counsel as they left Marshall and drove a little ways up the road to the Grange. Marcus studied the place. It was a handful of buildings in the middle of nowhere. He saw a pair of huge repair bays to the back, an industrial supply shed to the right, what appeared to be a kind of general store to the left and, further behind it, in a fenced-in lot, was another shed.

As soon as they were out, the front door to the store opened up and a young woman in a leather jacket with short, dark hair, a spiked collar around her throat and a lip piercing stepped out. She marched right up to Quentin and smacked in in the chest.

"What the fuck were you thinking!?" she cried.

"Uh...hi, Becca," Quentin replied awkwardly.

She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, stepping back and crossing her arms. "Oh don't fucking 'hi, Becca' me with your 'aw, shucks' country boy charm. Go inside, now!" she snapped.

"Okay, Becca...good to see you," Quentin replied.

He and Bob began walking up to the store. Becca came over to join Marcus and Jack.

"You must be Marcus," she said. She stuck out her hand. Marcus took it and shook it. "I'm Becca Collins. Thanks for the help."

"I'm always happy to help," Marcus replied.

"Well good, because we might be needing some in the near future. We'll give you a call on the radio if we decide anything."

"Looking forward to it," Marcus said.

Becca thanked him again, then went inside.

"We do appreciate the help," Jack said. "Becca can be a bit...blunt. But she's smart and actually pretty good at keeping us all in line. I was thinking maybe we could trade some things. Not sure what, yet, but I'm sure there's something you've got a lot of that we don't have much of and vice versa. You seem trustworthy."

"I try to be. And that sounds great. Get on the radio with Lily and set something up," Marcus replied.

Jack nodded, shook his hand and thanked him again, then offered to drive him back home. Marcus, not quite feeling up to the walk, accepted the offer.

* * *

"Looks like you got company," Jack said as they pulled up.

Marcus frowned. A cop car was parked in front of the truck stop. And not just a cop car, he saw as he pulled up, but the sheriff's car. Not really a good sign. Seeing it gave Marcus a chill. They both sat there for a moment.

There was no one in the car.

"You want me to stick around?" Jack asked.

"No, you should probably get home. I'll handle this. I appreciate it, though," Marcus replied.

Jack nodded. "Give me a call on the radio if you need help with anything. Good luck."

As he got out of the truck and began heading for the front gate, he spied a man in a cop's uniform talking with Maya and Jacob. They were standing out in the open, about halfway between the fence and the main building. They all looked over as Marcus pushed the gate open and began walking towards them, still trying to assess the situation.

"You must be Marcus Campbell," the cop said, turning fully to face him. He seemed amiable enough.

"That's me," Marcus replied, coming to a stop in front of the man and shaking his hand. He studied him. The man was definitely on his way into middle age, at least in his early to mid fifties. His hair was still dark but very thin. He had the look of a man who had spent a long time keeping in shape but, over the past few years, had stopped hitting the gym and started hitting the doughnut shop instead. Marcus had no doubt that the guy could still hold his own, though. There was something about him, an air of calm confidence and competence.

"I'm Sheriff Carl Parsons, though I'm not sheriff of much more, these days. You seem to be the only people left in Marshall that aren't part of our camp. Well, you and the people staying out at the Grange. I was hoping to talk with you."

"What about?" Marcus asked.

Carl shifted uncomfortably. "Well, let give you the lowdown. After the shit hit the fan and it became obvious that help wasn't coming, Judge Lawton got a lot of us together in the courthouse. We've been sort of building a society down there. The end of this is that she wants you to come down for a talk."

"Me, specifically?" Marcus replied.

"Well, whoever's in charge. That seems to be you. Well, you and Maya here."

"So you want us to come down and talk with your boss about...joining your enclave?"

"That's about the size of it."

Marcus considered it for a moment. He glanced back at Maya and Jacob, over Carl's shoulder. She looked reserved but she nodded to him.

"Okay then. We'll follow you there."

Carl smiled. He looked tired. "Glad to hear it."

* * *

The courthouse turned out to be just on the other side of the river. They took the SUV and followed Carl right up to the front of the courthouse. They'd clearly done some real pro work, and Marcus was interested to know how it had been achieved. Four shipping crates had been stacked in two rows, providing a pair of walls, a sort of natural alcove leading up to the front entrance. Most of the rest of the street was blocked off with fencing segments and concrete road barriers. A couple of cops stood out front with rifles.

They both nodded to the trio as they walked inside. Apparently, Judge Lawton was waiting for them. She was middle-aged, dark skinned and heavyset. She wore black slacks and a button-down shirt that were beginning to look worn out.

"Hello. My name is Judge Constance Lawton. Welcome to our society, where we offer safety and security for anyone who is willing to join. I believe we've made a nice little set-up for ourselves. Now that the Mayor is dead, and many, many others, Sheriff Parsons and myself had to step up and take control. Obviously, the Army isn't going to help us at this point. We're on our own, and my citizens, those who haven't joined, are living in fear. Fear of the undead, fear of the criminal element, fear of starvation."

Marcus got the idea that she had this speech prepared for everyone who came in through those doors that didn't immediately fall to their knees and beg for sanctuary. He glanced briefly at Carl, who looked even more uncomfortable now.

What was coming next?

Lawton continued. "Obviously, it's our goal to unite all the survivors in the valley. But, of course, any society has to have rules." Here she crossed her arms. "All civilians who live among us are not allowed to carry firearms. Only law enforcement officials will be legally allowed to do so. Of course, anyone who joins up will have to give up their own personal belongings for the good of the whole. But in return you will be cared for, fed, clothed, given access to any medical treatments we can offer and, obviously, protection."

She paused. This was the part where Marcus gave his answer to the apparent question she had, in a roundabout way, posed.

Would they be signing up under Judge Lawton?

He glanced, once, at Maya, just to be sure. The look of incredulous confusion, bordering actual fear of this woman, said it all.

"Um, well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Judge Lawton, but I think we're doing quite fine on our own down at the truck stop. I imagine that if we keep to ourselves, we should be able to operate without getting in each other's way, and, of course, we'd be more than willing to trade for resources," Marcus replied.

Judge Lawton frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mister Campbell. Obviously, we'd like it if people joined freely...before the issue has to be forced."

Maya took a step forward. There were two more cops standing around in the lobby. They shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard that correctly. Did you say _forced?_ As in, you'd _make_ join your little 'society'?" she asked. "Make us, as in, with violence?"

Judge Lawton, to her credit, didn't back down. "The Wild West can't last forever, ma'am. Law and order _must_ be maintained. Whatever the cost."

"Hold on," Marcus said, putting a hand on Maya's shoulder. "So what you're telling us here is that, basically, you're off your rocker?"

Judge Lawton blinked and shifted her focus back to him. "Excuse me?"

"Okay, let's examine this situation for just a moment. We're in the zombie apocalypse. There's like thousands, if not tens of thousands, of the living dead roaming around outside. In your mind, the appropriate response to this...is to take away our guns, our weapons...because we aren't _cops?!_ That is beyond unreasonable!"

Carl stepped forward. "Marcus-"

"No!" he snapped, cutting the man off. "This is _bullshit!_ There's _no_ reason, no logical reason, why we should just give up our weapons. Is it a matter of training? You're afraid that we can't handle a pistol or a shotgun? Obviously that isn't the case. We'd all be _dead_ if we couldn't shoot worth a shit. I'm willing to bet I can shoot just as good as any of your cops here. Is it because you don't trust us? Fair's fair, I suppose, but then there's the matter of trying to _force_ us to give up our guns, join your society and then we're just supposed to trust _you_ to take care of us? Completely? Why, because you're a judge? Because judges are incorruptible, right? They'd never let their own ego get in the way of logical decision-making, right?

"But no. Instead of accepting our disinclination to join you and instead open up trade negotiations or _any_ potential of working together, you straight-up _threatened_ us. You want to talk about criminal element? That sounds like fucking criminal element to me. 'Do what I say or I'll shoot you.' So yeah, given the facts, I think you're insane. You've got a screw loose. So no, I don't think we'll be joining your society. And don't fucking come by again unless you're waving a white flag, very clearly and very visibly," Marcus snapped.

He turned and stalked off.

Maya followed after him.

"Holy shit, what was all that about?" she asked.

"I'm just fed up with morons and bureaucracy and following 'The Rules' even if it means their death or someone else's," Marcus replied.

"That was very brave," Maya said as they got into the car. "I'm proud of you."

"Well...here's hoping I didn't just screw us over."

"We can handle them."

As Marcus pulled away from the courthouse, he hoped she was right.


	35. Chapter 35: Insubordination

Marcus waited for repercussions, but they didn't seem to manifest.

Two more days went by as they finished searching all the buildings on their side of the river and started really thinking about heading over to the other side. But while they were debating about that, Karen called in with something more important.

The result of this call was that now, he and Maya were standing in the middle of a sun-drenched field, not far from the very farmhouse that Marcus had rescued Jacob from last month, waiting for Karen to show.

She said the Army wanted to talk.

"I don't get it," Maya said while they waited. They both had on sunglasses. It was almost high noon. "I mean, after weeks and weeks of alternating between threatening us and ignoring us, suddenly, they want to talk? Something's up," she said.

"Well...maybe it's all gone to hell for them, you know?" Marcus replied.

Maya just grunted and kept looking around. He shifted uncomfortably as he waited. Ever since getting back from the courthouse, a thought had begun worming its way into his skull. It wasn't exactly a new thought, he'd asked himself this question several times before, but those other times, he'd been able to abate it, to wave it away with vague logic and maybe the occasional internal promise. Only this time it wouldn't go away.

If anything, it was getting worse.

What was their endgame?

What were they going to do? They couldn't live in this valley forever. It was too dangerous. Not to mention, they _still_ didn't know how far spread the sickness was. Were there undead everywhere, or were they just here?

"There she is," Maya said, pushing herself up off the SUV they'd driven out here.

Marcus had kept his thoughts to himself, because the others seemed...well, happy. And didn't they deserve some happiness, after all the shit they'd gone through? He made himself focus on the dust trail that was approaching them. It seemed that Karen had found a big truck with a lot of carrying capacity and all-terrain drive.

She pulled up in front of them, killed the engine and got out.

Marcus studied her as she approached. She was wearing a thin tanktop, cut-off jean shorts, big workboots and sunglasses. Her hair was pulled into a rough ponytail. She was a hell of a lot tanner than she had been a few days ago.

She looked...good. Healthier.

She smiled as she approached them and hugged them both. "Marcus, Maya, I'm so glad you're here," she said.

"You look...good, Karen," Maya said. "You look a bit better."

"Thank you. I _feel_ better. I'm not sure what it is but...being out here, on my own, taking care of business, it's been great, honestly. I still feel like crap about what happened but I don't feel like, you know, I'm liable to break down and cry my eyes out at the drop of a hat." She looked around, as if proudly surveying her own, personal domain.

"You mentioned the Army..." Marcus said.

"Yeah. The Army. I worked with them yesterday. They got hold of me, asked me to be a spotter for them. I pointed out some hordes in the farmland, a few big bastards. Today they said they needed help, because it's looking like someone is going to get overrun," Karen explained.

"Someone? Another enclave?" Maya asked.

"Yes, apparently. I thought Alice Miller was the only group out here, but it turns out there's one more. They don't have a radio. They're in trouble. That Sergeant Tan is there, on patrol I guess, and he's looking for help before he goes and saves them."

"Shit, we gotta move then," Maya replied.

"Excellent. Follow me," Karen said.

They all mounted up in their respective vehicles and began driving across the fields, away from Alice's Miller's farm, into the west, towards the general direction of the third city, Fairfield. Marcus glanced over at Maya.

"So...you know this guy, this Sergeant Tan?" he asked.

"Eric Tan...yeah. I know him, sort of. We served together, did a tour of duty in Afghanistan a few years ago. He's a good man, but...well, typically, in the Army, a man's only as good as the orders he follows," Maya replied.

"Of course," Marcus grunted.

In the distance, he caught sight of a horde moving towards a farmhouse. To the left, about a hundred feet away, were a couple of men standing up on a raised platform. Karen was headed in their direction. They quickly drove up to the raised platform. As they came to a halt, one of the soldiers, a man that Marcus recognized as Sergeant Tan from their brief introduction several weeks ago, broke away and came over.

"Hello, Torres. So, we doing this?" he asked, looking in at them both.

"Yeah. Mount up. We'll drive over there and help those people out," Marcus replied.

"Let's _go!_ " Tan called, letting out a short whistle. The two other soldiers, both of them holding shotguns, rushed over. They all got into Marcus' car and as soon as the door was shut, Marcus hit the gas and he and Karen were racing off towards the farmhouse.

The zombie horde they'd seen was attacking now.

"This is fucking _bullshit!_ " Tan snapped. "We've been asking for backup for the past half hour, watching that fucking horde roll up on that farmhouse. They've been _ignoring_ me!" he roared. "Thanks for helping out," he added, quietly.

"Happy to," Marcus replied.

They came up to the farmhouse and piled out of the vehicles. There was screaming coming from inside the house. Several windows were broken out, with close to two dozen zombies climbing in through them and the front door.

"Let's go! Get in there!" Tan called.

Marcus pulled out his pistol. They all had a gun of some kind in hand. The six of them rushed across the open ground and opened fire on the zombie horde, those that were still left outside. Ten of them were put down with a quick, brutal proficiency, spraying congealed blood and rotted brains all over the exterior of the farmhouse. All the rest of them were inside. Tan let out another rally cry and they scrambled for the front door.

Marcus was in second, right after Tan, Maya and the others behind him. The living room was a scene of bloody chaos. A dozen zombies were swarming the inhabitants of the farmhouse. Marcus and the others fell on them just as violently, melee weapons in hands. The next several minutes passed in visceral segments, the sound of cracking skulls and wretched moans filling the air. When it was all said and done, there were a dozen and a half bodies strewn across the living room floor, a few more stragglers having crawled in.

Marcus, while he was getting his breath back, studied the survivors. There were two of them. They looked grim and bloody and terrified and miserable. He wasn't sure why, but he had the immediate impression that they were siblings.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner," Tan said. He opened his mouth to say more, but then his radio squawked and he grabbed at it. "Where the fuck have you been?!" he snapped. He listened to the static-laced response and rolled his eyes, turning away from them and marching across the room. "Don't gimme that shit you pig-fucking, goddamned piece of..."

Marcus tuned him out. He focused on the survivors. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No...we're okay," the woman said.

They were both somewhere in their thirties, fairly tall and rangy with brown hair and tan skin. "Is there anyone else in the house?" Maya asked.

The man shook his head miserably. "No...it's just us...the others are dead..."

"I'm sorry," Marcus said.

Tan marched back over suddenly. "Well, we've gotta go. Sorry to leave in a hurry. I got some boys on patrol in Spencer's Mill that are running into trouble and I don't exactly have that many guys left under my command..." He frowned, looked at Marcus, Maya and Karen. "You guys did good today...watch out for yourselves. We might be needing your help in the near future."

"What does that mean?" Maya asked.

Tan shook his head and shrugged. "Dunno. Just a feeling." For the first time, Marcus noticed that the man was very pale, his eyes bloodshot.

He gave them a little wave, gathered up his troops and left. Silence fell across the farmhouse. Marcus turned back to the two survivors.

"I know it's a little soon but...if you want, you two can come back with us. We've got a good, secure place with lots of supplies," Marcus said.

It was the woman who spoke first. "Yeah, we'll come back with you," she said morosely. "I'm Evelyn, by the way. This is my brother, Richard."

"Okay. We should, uh, start gathering up whatever supplies you have here. We'll load it up into our trucks and drive you guys back. We're in Marshall."

"Okay. Thank you."

They set to work.


	36. Chapter 36: Helping Out

It was another three days before anything of any real significance happened.

Marcus was beginning to notice that. Long stretches of time would go by where life was trundling along as it should, (or at least as it should in an apocalyptic setting with the undead everywhere), and then, suddenly, something would crop up unexpectedly. Over the course of those three days, a few things did occur.

The two siblings, Richard and Evelyn, settled in. It seemed that they had already had their dose of tragedy in their lives, so it didn't take them too long to snap out of the shock of losing the rest of their enclave and adjusting to a new one. It helped that everyone was welcoming and they were, in fact, in quite a safe environment. They began setting up outposts in a few of the buildings around them, for an additional blanket of safety, by boarding over the windows, stashing some supplies there and even toying around with the idea of manning them.

Instead of going over onto the other side of the river, which Marcus felt was looking for trouble, he and some of the others, instead, began checking out the collection of houses and other structures both on the interior of farmland that Karen had been looking over and along the exterior of the road that circled most of the length of the valley. There were about two dozen structures ripe for the picking and that ate up a lot of time.

The main thing, though, that Marcus couldn't get out of his head, even as he was lying awake with Maya next to him in the dark, was leaving the valley. It seemed like the most logical thing to do. But he couldn't bring himself bring it up to the others. They all kept talking about how great this was, about how well everything was going. And it wasn't like he even necessarily had a lot of facts or logic on his side...

Just a bad feeling.

A feeling that they couldn't stay here.

But was it any safer out there?

When the interesting thing happened, it started in the form of a certain sheriff's cop cruiser cruising down the middle lane of Marshall, straight for them, occasionally slamming into any zombies that wandered into its path. It was the dawn of the fourth day and Marcus had been preparing to head out into the field with Ed. The two of them were standing at the base of the watchtower, just inside the chainlink fence.

Ed pointed it out.

"Great, what does he want?" Marcus muttered, hand falling to the butt of his pistol. He'd made it pretty clear that they weren't wanted last time, so this could either go okay or it could very bad very fast. He checked the immediate area for other cop cars or other people, and called up to Maya, who was on watchtower duty, to check for the same. She called back down to him that the good sheriff seemed to be alone.

Marcus and Ed walked outside of the gate, waiting for the man.

He kept his speed very slow and came to a halt a comfortable distance away. Killing the engine, he slowly got out of the car.

"Hey there, fellas," he said. "If I'd had my head with me this morning, I would've bought a white t-shirt or something to wave," he added.

Marcus couldn't help but chuckle. There was just something about Carl that made you want to like him. He felt himself relax. "Okay, Carl, what do you want?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Obviously we didn't part on the best of terms. Now...you weren't actually _wrong_ when you said what you said, I don't think. It's just that...well, what we've got going on at the courthouse is, I think, the best-case scenario...given the circumstances. Now, I'm willing to agree that Judge Lawton can be a bit stubborn at times and she has some strange ideas. We've had a lot of disagreements. But she _is_ smart, and capable...and I don't think we should just throw away any chance at community and communication, you know?" Carl asked.

"That's fair...what are you actually asking for?" Marcus replied.

"I've been working on the judge for a little while now, trying to get her to be more reasonable. I've made _some_ progress, but I think it would help if she knew that you were helping me. See, here's the thing: my boys have spotted a pair of infestations over on our side of the river and I was hoping you could help me deal with them. Thing is, we're seeing more and more zombies around and I kind of need my men where they're at to maintain protection. It would _really_ help take the heat off if you guys could lend a hand..."

Marcus frowned, considered it, glanced at Ed. He gave a short nod. Marcus glanced up at Maya, who was still in the watchtower, listening in on this. After a moment of staring at him, she finally gave a sharp nod. She thought it was a good idea.

"Okay," he said, returning his attention to Carl. "Me and Ed here will help out."

Carl let out a big sigh of relief. "Thank you! This is going to be _so_ damned helpful. I've brought you guys some bullets, saw you were using nine millimeters last time. I've also got a shotgun in the back that I'd be willing to loan out."

"I appreciate that," Marcus replied.

"Who has to sit in the back?" Ed asked as they headed for the car.

"I don't wanna, once was enough for me," Marcus replied.

"We'll both do it," Ed said after a moment.

Marcus laughed and clapped him on the back. "And that's why you're my best friend, Ed. Always willing to share the suffering."

"What friends are for," Ed replied.

They climbed into the back and Carl began driving. "So you sat in the back of one of these before?"

Marcus sighed. "Yeah. It was so stupid. Back during my high school days, hanging out with some friends...they wanted to smoke weed in the local park. Talked me into it. I only took one hit but, of course, that's when a cop just shows right the fuck up..."

Carl laughed. "I've been baked a few times in my heydays," he admitted, "never really gave people any trouble for weed in particular. Saw no reason to. But...gotta admit, doing it in a _park_ is kinda stupid..."

Marcus laughed. "Yeah, can't disagree with you there."

They drove on.

* * *

They crossed the river and rolled up on the first infestation.

It turned out to be in an abandoned industrial supply warehouse just a block over from the courthouse. They had to drive down a back alleyway that cut right through that city block to get to the main entrance.

"Ready?" Carl asked.

Marcus had found the shotgun. He'd holstered his pistol in favor of it. He and Ed both nodded. Carl killed the engine, pocketed the keys and got out. The two men followed him. From the outside, the warehouse didn't look like much. It could hardly be called a warehouse even, at least according to Marcus' idea of what a warehouse should be. If anything, it was just a big garage. It even had a garage door and a side door that was open and revealed a lot of dark movement inside. Marcus decided it was time to get to work.

He walked up to the door, flicked on the flashlight mounted on the end of the shotgun, shined it in and studied the zombies. There were close to fifteen of them packed in there, milling about. They all took notice of him at once and let out a chorus of shrieks and moans. The first thing he did was to sight the bulbous gray skull of what looked to be the only screamer of the group and squeeze the trigger. The screamer's head exploded in a dark plume of blood and brains and gore. That seemed incense the others into further agitation.

While walking slowly backwards, Marcus worked the shotgun, pumping it, and fired again, blowing the head clean off of another zombie and managing to tear away a good chunk of skull from another. As he kept backing up and popping off shells, leading the rest of them out, Carl and Ed started adding their own gunfire to the mix, either helping him take down the zombies as they came out or killing off any stragglers that wandered up because they heard the noise. By the time the shotgun ran dry, the last zombie fell.

"Holy shit," Ed said, he let out a little laugh.

"Now _that's_ how it's done!" Carl said triumphantly. "You boys are something else. True pros," he added.

"We didn't get this far by accident," Marcus replied, moving back over to the cop car and rooting around in it until he found some more shotgun shells stashed in the front seat. He began feeding the shells into the gun one by one.

"What's next?" Ed asked, reloading with some of nine millimeter ammo Carl had passed over to them on the way over.

"There's a house further up the way that one of my boys saw was a hot spot of undead activity. I wanted to clear it up, too," Carl replied.

"Let's roll," Ed said.

They both got in the back and Carl started driving. They continued along the dirt-road alleyway, passing between a house and a used car lot, then crossing over a real street and continuing along another dirt-paved alleyway. They passed a Big Daddy's garage, then pulled out onto another road, turned right and parked near a house. Marcus studied it as he got out, shotgun in hand. It was painted a mild yellow and they'd come out on the wrong side. There were no entrances here, just a trio of windows.

"We gonna go in?" Marcus asked.

Carl stood by the driver's side door. He'd rolled down the window. "No, watch this," he replied.

He leaned in and honked the horn three times in a row. Almost immediately, two of the three windows broke out and a small horde of zombies started climbing out. Over the next five minutes, Marcus, Ed and Carl picked them off, one by one. When the last one came out, they went inside and made sure there were none left behind.

"Well, I think that went pretty well," Carl said as he drove them back across the bridge, into their own territory.

"Yeah...so, I've got a question," Marcus said.

"Shoot."

"What kind of reaction would we receive if we were to start searching and scavenging buildings on your side of the river for supplies?"

"Hmm...well, I don't know. Most of the guys will listen to me, so they'll stay away from you if I tell them to, on the other hand, it might upset the delicate balance of power if I was seen cutting you favors by the judge..." he sighed. "It's all kind of a moot point, anyway. We've pretty much cleared out our structures for supplies. It's all holed up in the courthouse. I guess I'd say, if you think you can do it unseen, go for it, but it might not be worth the risk."

"Yeah, fair point," Marcus murmured in reply.

"Here's your stop. Thanks again for the help. I really appreciate it."

"Glad to be of service," Marcus replied.

He and Ed gathered up the spare ammo they'd been promised and Marcus returned the shotgun. They watched Carl drive off, then made their way into the compound. As they stepped into the main room and began sorting the ammo into the supply area, Lily called Marcus over. He left the job to Ed and went to join her.

"What's up?" he asked.

"While you were out, we got a call from the Grange. They like our idea of a watchtower and they've been putting together plans and materials for it. Now, all that's left is the actual construction, which they think they should be able to get up in about an hour or so with all four of them working on it continuously. There's one problem: it'll make a lot of noise. They're asking for protection from the undead while they do it."

"All right. I'll get Maya and we'll head over there and do it," Marcus replied.

Lily nodded. "Good..." she hesitated. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"What? Yeah, why?"

"I dunno, you just look...stressed."

He shrugged uneasily. "I'm okay. Living in this world is kind of stressful."

"Yeah, I guess so..." She didn't sound convinced.

Marcus made sure to grab some more bullets, more than he normally would, given that this could take up to an hour or more.

Then he headed out to get Maya.

* * *

They drove out of Marshall and along the road until they came to the Grange, where they saw all four of the members there setting up. They had a large collection of forty-gallon barrels and planks of wood, as well as a shipping pallet that Marcus realized they were going to use as a platform, which made a lot of sense.

"We appreciate the help," Jack said after Marcus had parked and he and Maya made their way over to the arrangement.

"Always happy to help," Maya replied.

It took almost the full hour to get the job done, and that was mainly because Jack really did know what he was doing and did a pretty decent job instructing the others. Marcus and Maya had to fend off two larger attacks by passing hordes that got drawn in by the noise and a handful of stragglers that wandered in from all over.

When it was done, they tested out the watchtower and found it to be more than adequate.

"This is excellent," Quentin said, standing at the top of the watchtower with the others. "I can't believe we built this."

"You'd be surprised what you can do when you just put your mind to it," Jack replied.

"And when you've got someone smarter than you guiding you," Becca said with a snort.

They came back down and rejoined Marcus and Maya. They talked for a little while longer and, all through it, Marcus could tell that Quentin was...nervous. Only not quite nervous, more anxious. And he kept glancing at Marcus. When the conversation had run its course, Marcus and Maya began to leave, but Quentin lingered.

"I'll be there in a moment," Marcus said, glancing at Maya.

She looked at him, then at Quentin, then nodded and got in the car. Marcus turned to the man. "I get the feeling you want to ask me for something."

He sighed. "Yeah," he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Jack said you've been talking with the sheriff lately..."

"Yeah, sort of...why?"

"Well, here's the thing. I, uh, well, me and Becca, we got kinda...close. I mean, like, real close, you know? And, I mean, I didn't know her before this whole thing started. And the sheriff came by earlier and he called her Alex. And Jack mentioned that he'd heard somewhere that she might have been, I don't know...in some kind of trouble, before all this. I guess, what I'm asking is, could you do me a favor and ask the sheriff about it?"

Marcus considered it for a moment. "All right, I guess I could do that," he said. "I'll try to get it done and be back by tonight."

"Oh, man. Thank you so much," he said, sounding immensely relieved.

Marcus nodded and got back into the car.

He drove off, back towards Marshall.

* * *

It took a while, but after dropping off Maya and explaining the situation, but he finally hunted down the sheriff. He was crouching behind his cop car in front of the police station, a huge silver revolver in his hands.

Marcus pulled up in the street, got out and approached him.

"Get down," Carl advised him and he did, crouching beside him.

"What's going on?" Marcus whispered.

"Remember those problems I mentioned to you, earlier? Well, I'm dealing with one of them right now. This bastard motherfucker feral has been hunting my men. Killed _three_ of 'em. Vicious son of a bitch. I tracked him into this building," he said. "I'm going to kill him."

"I'll help," Marcus said.

"Thanks. Could use the backup."

It turned out to be easier than Marcus thought it was going to be, though no less terrifying. As the pair came around the side of the cop car, a loud roar cut through the area and a feral burst through the front glass window of the police station. Both men let out startled shouts and opened fire. The thing dodged left, then right with an inhuman speed, then made right for Carl. He aimed and squeezed the trigger, firing one more time.

The feral's head exploded.

He yelled, throwing himself to the side to avoid its body, which was still in mid-leap and coming right for him. It hit the ground and rolled several times, coming to a bloody stop. Marcus hurried over and helped him up.

"Whew, thanks," he said, shakily reloading his six shooter. "Probably would've had me there...now, I imagine you came looking for me for a reason?" he asked. He forcibly slammed the cylinder on his revolver shut and shoved it into his holster.

"Yeah...I was sent by one of the guys over at the Grange. He said he's getting kind of...involved, with Becca. Said you knew her by a different name, maybe you might know her past?"

Carl sighed heavily. "Yeah, I do. Her name is Alex. Her birth name, anyway. She always used to be getting into trouble back in the day. Got her on possession of weed twice, not me, but one of my guys. Selling it once. Underage drinking. Fighting at school. Breaking and entering once...hell, she was a mess. She kind of dropped off the radar over the past year. I thought maybe she was getting her act together..."

Marcus nodded. "Uh-huh," he murmured, mulling over it. "Well, thanks. I guess I should get back and tell him."

"Marcus, wait," Carl said, straightening up. "Look, it's probably none of my business but...well, have you considered that maybe it's none of his business, either? If Alex...if Becca wanted to tell this guy anything, she'd either have told him already or will in the future, you know? It's her right to privacy. We all do stupid shit, you know? Especially when we're teenagers. God knows I did enough dumb crap back then...think it over, huh? Consider what I said. Becca _is_ a good person, and I think she's taking this opportunity to be an even better person."

Marcus thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "I guess you've got a good point there. Thanks, Carl."

"Welcome. And good luck out there."

Marcus got into his car and started heading back towards the Grange. He considered it as he drove, dodging zombies, occasionally hitting them if they were positioned right. How would he feel if someone told him, suddenly, that Maya had done questionable things in her past? Would it matter? He supposed it depended on what it was, but if it was something like this, like, maybe that she had been a hooker before joining the Army or something, then...no. It wouldn't matter, not to him. That was her decision and he trusted her to tell him anything that might be directly relevant to him or to their current relationship.

When he pulled up into the parking lot of the Grange, Quentin was already waiting for him. He hurried over to the driver's side door. Marcus rolled down the window. "Well," Quentin asked, "what did he say?"

"He said nothing worth mentioning," Marcus replied. "You should be happy with Becca here and now. If she has anything to tell you...then she'll tell you."

Quentin seemed to consider that. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay...thanks for the help," he replied.

"Yep. Good luck," Marcus replied.

He rolled up the window, pulled out and started driving home.


	37. Chapter 37: Unstable Times

When tragedy and terror struck, it usually did so without warning.

Two days after his interactions with the sheriff and those at the Grange, a call suddenly came out just after sunset. Marcus was hanging out in the watchtower with Maya, sitting in a pair of foldout chairs and staring out over the darkness of Marshall.

"Maya..." he began, then hesitated. They'd been talking for a good half an hour before and had finally lapsed into comfortable, companionable silence.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"I've been thinking..." He hesitated again, sighed.

"Something's been bugging you," she said. "What is it?"

"It's just that...I don't know. I've been getting this feeling, you know? This feeling like...maybe we should really start thinking about moving out of the valley."

Maya seemed to consider it for a moment, but as she opened her mouth to respond, she was cut off by a squeal of static over both their radios. _"This is Sheriff Parsons at the courthouse! We're under attack by a huge horde of undead bastards! We need help from anyone willing! Please-"_

He was cut off at about the same time a large plume of flame suddenly appeared from across the river.

"Holy shit," Maya whispered. "We've got to help them."

"Yep," Marcus replied, already scrambling over to the ladder. He slid down it and Maya was right behind him. They scrambled across the courtyard and into the main building, making for the supply area. As they did, others came into the room in varying states of confusion. Marcus and Maya immediately took control of the situation.

"Lily, see if you can get them back," Marcus said.

"Ed, Logan, Evelyn, you're coming with me and Marcus. The courthouse is under massive attack by the zombies. We're helping, so grab whatever guns and supplies you think you'll need," Maya said as she grabbed her own arsenal.

"Everyone else, gear up and secure the entrances along the chainlink. Make sure nothing attacks us while we're away," Marcus added.

There was a general sense of motion, of furious activity, as everyone scrambled to comply. Five minutes later, Marcus, Maya, Ed, Logan and Evelyn were driving towards the courthouse in a pair of SUVs, weapons in hand. Lily kept trying to raise someone over there but by the time they'd hit the bridge, there was no one.

An idea struck Marcus and he brought his radio out. "Lily, get hold of Doc Hanson, get him over here, we're going to have wounded."

" _Got it,"_ Lily replied and set to work on that task.

It was clear that the courthouse was burning. They raced across the bridges and up the street, slamming on the brakes and piling out of the two vehicles. There was a horde of creatures massing outside of the courthouse, having made it around and over the concrete barricades and funneling in through the alcove created by the stacked shipping containers. All five of them lined up in front of the twin SUVs, guns in hand, and opened fire on the zombie horde. For a solid minute, there was nothing but the sound of overlapping gunfire.

Maya had found a twelve-shot rifle in her travels and was putting that to use. Marcus, Evelyn and Ed all had their pistols out and were putting down zombies left and right. Logan had found a pump-action shotgun in the supply area and was banging through shell after shell. A dozen zombies fell, then two dozen, then three, and suddenly it was quiet.

"Let's go!" Marcus called, nearly deafened from the concentrated gunfire as he slapped a fresh magazine into the pistol.

Once it became clear that there were no more zombies coming from the street, the five of them hurried in between the concrete barriers and into the shipping container alcove. Smoke was billowing from several of the windows in the courthouse and there was movement obvious just inside the main room where, not all that long ago, Marcus had told Judge Lawton that she was nuts. The five of them burst into the room, falling on another handful of zombies that had made it inside and survived the initial slaughter.

They were trying to rip apart a handful of survivors. Marcus spied a pair of cops and some civilians. One of the survivors suddenly screamed as they were overwhelmed and two zombies started digging into their intestines. Marcus scrambled to rescue the man, but by the time he had bashed the two zombies' heads in, the man had already bled to death. Cursing, Marcus turned his attention to the rest of the zombies, but they had been taken down by the survivors and his own crew. He hurried over to one of the cops.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked.

The man, who looked pale and stricken, shook his head. "I-I don't..." he trailed off, clearly shell-shocked.

The other cop came over. "Judge Lawton and Sheriff Carl are dead," he said flatly.

"What the hell happened?!" Marcus cried.

"Zombies just swarmed us. One of the big ones broke through the door in the back, someone panicked, threw a grenade, it torched a stash of propane we had back there, blew a goddamned hole in the back, took them both out and some of the others," he replied.

"Fuck! Look, get these people outside, we're going in to try and find other survivors," Marcus said.

The man nodded. "Good luck."

"Logan, Evelyn, head through that door there, to the left, see what you can find. Maya, Ed, with me," Marcus said.

They split up and hurried off.

It was a miserable half hour. The building was coming down around them and there was smoke everywhere. They managed to clear a few rooms, but most of the ways were blocked, either by fire or structural damage. They did all they could, but they didn't find anyone else alive in the courthouse and were soon forced to abandon their efforts by the flames. As Marcus stumbled back outside, coughing and hacking with the others, he felt something wet hit his cheek, then the back of his arm and his neck. He glanced up.

It was raining.

At least that would keep the fire from spreading...hopefully.

He found Doc Hanson and the cop he had spoken to who was still with it tending to the others. They were the only ones standing. A small collection of people had been laid out on the street, a little ways down from the courthouse. Marcus and the others moved to join and help them. Doc Hanson moved with a grim proficiency, checking on the wounded and doing what he could for them. After ten minutes, he finally came up to Marcus.

"I've done all I can for them here," he said. "We need to get them back to your place. But we've got to be careful when we move them."

"Okay, it looks like we've got three vehicles between us. Will that be enough?" Marcus asked.

Hanson frowned, studying them, then finally nodded. "Yeah, should be fine. I've got the back of my truck cleared out for just such an occasion. Come on."

The rain picked up as they picked up the survivors. There were six of them altogether, seven if you included the single unwounded cop. He helped, silent and stern, clearly miserable. Marcus was silently extremely grateful that none of his people had been damaged in the fire. Once they had loaded everyone up, they drove them back across the bridge and through their half of Marshall, coming up to the truck stop.

Once it became apparent what was happening, some of the others came out to help, either to watch over them and provide protection or to help them carry the wounded. They brought them to the infirmary and when they ran out of room in there, (there were only three beds), they brought them to the third bedroom they had set up in the main room, the truck repair bay. Once it was clear that there was nothing more he could directly do, Marcus went to gather the others and make sure their perimeter remained secure.

Time passed. Minutes dragged into hours.

Before long, Marcus, in the watchtower, nodded off.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, the sun was rising.

He sat up and looked around, terrified that something had gone wrong while he'd fallen asleep and angry at himself for nodding off. He stood up and looked around, feeling the panic subside as he saw that there were no zombies, nothing was on fire, no one was shooting at anything. With a sigh, he scanned the area and spied Ed making his way towards him. He climbed up the watchtower and joined Marcus atop it.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah...tired," Marcus replied. "Nodded off for a while there."

"I had a nap myself. I thought I'd come take over."

"Thanks."

Marcus headed carefully down the ladder and moved towards the truck stop. He came inside and made for the main repair bay, where the survivors were. As he did, he spied Maya and Jacob standing with Doc Hanson in the infirmary.

He joined them. "How's everyone doing?" he asked.

Doc Hanson sighed. "Besides Dan, the police officer who managed to get out without any wounds, only two of them survived. All the others succumbed to their wounds. I've already got them wrapped up in tarp...going to bury them up at the cemetery."

"You want any help with that?" Marcus asked.

Hanson shook his head. "No. Burying the dead is more of a solitary duty. Thanks though, I appreciate it. I'm going to check your people out, then stop by the Grange for a check-up there, too. If you need me after that, when I'm done at the graveyard, well, I've finally settled down and I'm living with Alice Miller at her farm."

"How's it going out there?" Marcus asked.

He sighed and shook his head. "Not good. We've got supplies but we keep getting hit. We've lost that younger couple, Ryan and Izabella. She got killed in an attack by a feral and he got bitten...succumbed to infection just yesterday. Buried them last night at the cemetery, too. It seems like it's getting bad all over."

"Yeah, it does seem that way," Marcus muttered.

Doc Hanson did as he'd said and checked them over. He lingered on Jacob a bit, making sure that his back wound was healing up properly, then gave his farewells and headed out, hauling a grim cargo in his truck.

Marcus joined Maya in the infirmary, where their three new residents were.

They were all at least awake and largely functional. The cop's name was Dan Hammond. He seemed reserved and a bit grim, but very much in control of himself. He was tanned, tall and fit, looking like he took himself and his job seriously. One of the other survivors was a dark skinned woman in her mid thirties named Laura Jackson. Even in spite of everything that had happened, she was very polite and kind when Marcus spoke with her. There was a peace to her, a serenity that seemed natural and had probably been with her for most of her life. The final survivor was a younger man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was a college student named Dennis Walker. Probably the main reason he was still alive was because he'd been a fitness nut and one of his primary hobbies, besides working out, had been shooting guns at the local range.

"Well, unless you have somewhere else you'd rather be, you're welcome here," Marcus said after meeting with them.

They all wanted to stay.

He began to help them get sorted.

He couldn't help but think about Doc's words about how it was getting bad all over. Something had to be done.

A decision had to be made.


	38. Chapter 38: Decisions

Before Marcus could do anything, he received another call over the radio. Lily asked him and Maya to join her at her area. He'd just finished getting the others settled in, showing them around the place and where they would be sleeping. When the call from Lily came through, he made his excuses and hurried back through the truck stop, wondering just what in the hell was going to go wrong this time.

What else possibly could at this point?

He supposed that a ton of things could.

He and Maya entered Lily's radio area at about the same time and he saw that she was wearing a worried expression as well.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I've just received a call from Sergeant Tan. He's asking for you two to meet him at the north bridge that leads over to Fairfield. He says something big is happening, he also said you should bring guns, lots of them...do you know what he's talking about?" Lily replied, sounding nervous.

"Not specifically, but he said he might need our help for something big...I guess this is that. Keep everyone on alert, just in case," Marcus replied.

"Let's go see what he's bullshitting about," Maya said.

They went over to the supply station, stocked up on bullets and anything else they thought they'd need. Marcus swapped out his machete for a brand new crowbar someone had found out in the field and dropped off. He stocked up on ammo for his pistol, then grabbed one of only two shotguns they had in stock and stuffed his pockets with ammo for it. If someone like Sergeant Tan was telling them to bring lots of guns, chances were he knew what the hell he was talking about. He noticed Maya gearing up as well.

Once they had their supplies, they headed outside, got into one of the SUVs and drove off, making for Fairfield.

"What do you think it is?" Marcus asked.

"I don't know, but it must have something to do with Fairfield. That's supposed to be where the Army had their headquarters this whole time. Maybe something went wrong. Maybe they got overrun and he wants some help," Maya replied.

"Maybe they're finally fucking ready to offer us a way out of here," Marcus said.

Maya snorted. "I'm so sure."

They drove out of Marshall and along the road, passing the Grange and waving to whoever was on guard duty in the watchtower. They drove past the south gate of Fairfield, which had been closed off some time ago with an immense steel gate, erected by the military. After passing another warehouse, they followed the river up the road to the north gate, where they saw a collection of black SUVs and a half-dozen soldiers.

As they pulled up, Marcus could hear shouting.

He got out.

"Come on you goat-fucking sons of bitches! _Open the fucking gate!_ I'm not even sick you fuckers! Man gets a cough from living in fucking third world conditions for a month, course he would! _OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!_ "

Marcus and Maya approached. It was Eric shouting. The other soldiers looked uncomfortable. He started shouting again, staring up at a watchtower erected just behind the gate that was clearly empty. Nobody and nothing moved beyond the gate. His shouting was interrupted by a thick, racking cough that sounded familiar.

It was the same cough that Pastor Will had had.

"There's nobody up there," Marcus said as he came to stand behind Eric.

The man spun around, seemingly startled, then he sighed and shook his head. "No fucking shit," he replied. "I was waiting for you to show up."

"So what's going on?" Maya asked.

Eric coughed for a few seconds more, hawked and spat. "Bullshit, is what's happening. I haven't had contact with command for two solid days now. Haven't had contact with fucking _anyone._ So I'm going to go and see with my own eyes just what, exactly, the hell is going on up there. I thought you might like to see."

"Yeah, we would," Marcus said.

"Great. Get back, we're going to blast through. Murphy, get on it!" he snapped.

One of the soldiers snapped a quick 'yes, Sergeant!' and hustled up to the gate with an armful of something. Marcus and Maya fell back to their SUV, backing it up to what Maya said should be a safe distance. They waited, watching in rapt silence as Murphy, who Marcus imagined, (and hoped), was a demolitions expert, worked. Finally, he stood up and fell back with the others. They all crouched behind their black SUVs.

"Fire in the hole!"

A great explosion ripped through the air. Even inside the car it was loud. Marcus and Maya got out as the smoke cleared.

"Come on, let's get a move on. That was sure to draw a lot of them in," Eric said.

There was no arguing with that.

The hole they'd blown was just big enough to get their SUVs through, so they got into the back of one of the black military SUVs with Eric in the front seat. The other soldiers piled into the second vehicle and they drove through the hole and onto the bridge that crossed the river. Marcus felt a feeling of slow dread begin to build as they rolled into Fairfield. He was familiar with it, since you had to drive through it if you wanted to come into the valley at all. It was a small town, just a few stores, maybe a dozen or so houses and the fairgrounds.

They drove through the silent town, passing the occasional zombie. Eric kept reaching out over the radio, trying to get into contact with command, warning them that he had breached the perimeter and was on approach to HQ.

But they received no reply.

None at all.

"There it is," Eric muttered.

They drove up to a collection of tents, sandbag walls and shacks, all collected behind a chainlink fence that had been pushed over in some places. All of this had been built across a trio of parking lots wrapped around a pair of large warehouses that the military had obviously appropriated for their operations.

"Shit," Eric muttered as he killed the engine. "Looks totally fucking dead."

They all got out of the SUVs. "Make sure your guns are ready," Eric said. "We're going to go in there and figure out what happened."

Marcus took it all in as he followed Eric, his soldiers and Maya in through what seemed to be a main gate. They walked past abandoned machine gun turrets entrenched behind curved walls of sandbags and into a large, open lot ringed with tents and shacks. At the back of it was the huge gray bulk of one of the warehouses.

"Split up," Eric said. "See what you can find."

They did, though Marcus and Maya stuck together. They moved over to one of the large, canvas tents that flapped ominously in the winds. Overhead, the skies were becoming gray, threatening rain. Marcus kept his shotgun in hand as he peered cautiously inside. There was no one, alive or undead, inside. Just a handful of foldout tables and chairs scattered with papers and supplies. It looked like whoever had been here had cleared out in a hurry. They found nothing relevant inside, so they moved on to the next tent.

This one had a dead soldier in it. It looked like the man had been on the verge of becoming a zombie, or had been particularly ill with Black Fever, and someone had shot him in the head. It took them another ten minutes of silent searching before Marcus and Maya finally came across something worthwhile.

"Sergeant!" Maya called.

There was a survivor, lying in a cot, barely conscious. A young man in sweat-soaked, torn, bloodied fatigues. Eric and some of the others soldiers hurried over. Marcus stepped back, out of the way, to let Eric in.

"Christ," he muttered. "What's your name, son?" he asked.

"PFC Osmond," he replied weakly.

"What happened here, Osmond?"

"Everyone pulled out...the disease, it's everywhere now. All over. The valley isn't important anymore. They killed everyone who was sick or left them behind..."

Suddenly, he went limp, his expression slack, and his last breath left him in a slow sigh. In a horrible way, he sounded relieved.

"Shit," Eric muttered. He pulled out his pistol and shot the man in the head. There was something disturbingly mechanical about the motion. "Keep him from turning," he muttered. "Come on, let's get out of this tent."

They followed him back out into the gray sunlight.

"Now what?" Marcus asked. "If the virus is everywhere and we're stuck here in this valley...what's the point?"

"We have to at least leave the valley," Eric said. He sounded resolute, but the effect was largely lost when he degenerated in a thick, racking cough. "Okay, look, Marcus, Maya...I'm going to get a plan together to get out of here. It's going to be ready to go before the end of the day. We're getting out of here. Go gather everyone you can, everyone who will join you, and bring them up here. By the time you're done, we should be ready."

Marcus looked at Maya. "Well...you wanted to talk about leaving the valley," she said. "It seems like this is our opportunity."

"You sure? You don't think we might be safer here?" Marcus replied.

Maya laughed. "When have you ever known me to take the 'safe and sure' option? You heard him, we can't stay here. We have to get out of this valley. I'm sure we can convince the others...which we should get to doing. You sure you can get your plan together, Eric?"

"Pretty sure," he replied. "I'll let you know if I can't."

"Okay. Let's move," Maya said.

* * *

Convincing everyone wasn't exactly as easy as Marcus had hoped.

He called a meeting of every single person in their enclave. There were thirteen, including himself. Marcus looked over them all, and then he laid down the situation as it was for them as plainly and clearly as he could.

"So this is it, everyone," he said. "Maya and I think we should we take our chance and leave the valley. What I think we should do first is take a vote. Who votes to leave?"

Jacob, Ed, Karen, Evelyn, Dan and Dennis all voted that they should take the chance and leave. Lily, Logan, Daisy, Richard and Laura all voted to stay.

"Okay, why do you think we should stay?" he asked.

"We're safe here," Lily replied. "I mean, it's basically the apocalypse out there. We have control of this valley now, pretty much. Why not stay? Staying here, we could eventually take the valley back, eventually kill all the zombies, probably, maybe get other people to come here..."

"And how do we know that this place isn't planned for carpet bombing by the military because it's a hot zone? I'm sure Danforth certainly is. How long before those ten million zombies wander over this way?" Maya replied.

Lily frowned, her certainty slipping. "I hadn't thought of that..." she admitted.

Marcus pressed the foothold Maya had gained. "We have no idea what could be out there. There could be safe zones, certainly better, more defensible areas than a valley. And, I imagine, most of us have family out there, people that we might want to try and track down and see if they're still alive..." He knew this last part was very true for him.

That also seemed to sway some of the others.

After a bit more conversation, they took another vote.

This time, everyone voted to leave.

"Good, let's get packing. I'm going to take a drive up to Alice Miller's farm and the Grange and see if I can't convince them," Marcus said.

"I'll come with you," Maya replied, "I can be fairly persuasive."

* * *

As it turned out, they didn't need to be all that persuasive.

After getting everyone started packing up all of their reasonably portable gear and supplies into a small convoy of vehicles, Marcus and Maya drove out to Alice Miller's farm. She greeted them at the door and when she did, Marcus noticed that she seemed less certain of herself as she had been the previous times he'd spoken with her.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, letting him into the house.

They found Doc Hanson and Sam Haney sitting in the living room.

Marcus looked at the three of them, then he laid it out for them. He explained the situation: the Army, the worldwide plague, the dwindling resources of the valley and the potential of millions more zombies headed their way. The three of them took all of this in quietly and eventually Marcus ran out of things to say.

Finally, it was, of all of them, Doc Hanson who spoke up first. "I know I always said that I'd die in Trumbull Valley but...well, sometimes, a man has to admit when he's licked. And dammit, I'm sure as hell licked. This valley is dead, and staying here would be joining it in its death. You can be sure I'll be joining you Marcus, Maya," he said.

Alice Miller sighed. "Well, when you put it like that..." She shook her head, then shrugged. "We'll start packing up and meet you at your truck stop."

Marcus smiled.

It was all coming together.

* * *

He didn't even have to stop at the Grange.

Apparently, Lily contacted them on the radio and told them about the situation. As it turned out, none of them were too eager to stick around the valley, either. After that, as Marcus and Maya drove back, Lily began putting the word out, trying to reach anyone who might be alive but hidden that the time to leave was now.

They returned to the truck stop and started helping everyone pack up. Nearly two hours passed. By then, Alice Miller and those left at her enclave had showed up as well and had joined in helping everyone pack.

Marcus' radio crackled to life suddenly.

" _Marcus...I may have overestimated my ability to put together my plan."_ It was Eric Tan.

Marcus looked at Maya, sighed, pulled out his radio. "What's the problem?" he asked.

" _If you want to escape this place, bring Maya and two of your best people back up to the Army base. I'm going to need some help."_


	39. Chapter 39: Exit Strategy

They took Karen and Dan, the cop, with them.

They made sure to grab extra guns and ammunition, and took a blue four-door that didn't really have much in the way of room for spare cargo. It was only really good for driving a few people around. They headed out of Marshall and drove as quickly as they could up the road, past more and more zombies. There seemed to be a lot of them out. Marcus didn't like it. It felt ominous, almost like the valley knew that they were getting ready to leave and wanted to stop them. He tried to keep his mind focused, but thoughts like that kept slipping in.

He drove past the Grange, seeing the group loading everything they could into a pair of trucks, one of them being Jack's big vehicle. Fears and worries of failure kept harassing him. What if he was leading them all to their death? What if there was nothing out there? But no, he had to do this. They were committed, and besides, there very well could be a few million zombies on their way to the valley right now or at some time in the near future.

He reached the area where they'd blown the hole and drove carefully through it. As he made his way through town, he ran down a few zombies. After what seemed like far too long, the tension being drawn out, he finally rolled up on the Army camp. The four of them got out after he killed the engine and checked their guns.

"This way," Marcus said, leading them through the open gate and into the Army encampment. As they stepped inside, he felt cold fear shoot through him. There seemed to be nothing and nobody around. What if Eric was dead? What they all were?

What if-

"Marcus."

He jerked, turning to the left, and saw Eric emerge from one of the tents. He looked like hell. Pale, gaunt, fatigued, his eyes bloodshot and sunken. He was sweating a lot.

"So, what happened?" he asked.

Eric coughed for a moment, then spat. "I fucked it up," he muttered. "Sent my men out to check for survivors...got three of them fucking killed. There's just four of us left now. Listen, this is my plan. The only way out of this fucking valley has been blocked off by one grade-A road block. Ten feet of solid concrete. We need to blast through it. Now, the materials we need to do said blasting is inside that warehouse," he said, pointing. "Unfortunately, it's fucking packed with undead bastards. We need more help. That's why I called you. How's your little round-up going?"

"I've got everyone that I know about in this whole valley packing up. They should be ready to go within the hour," Marcus replied.

"Good. Here's the plan: we go in there, clear out the undead, get the bombs, have everyone start heading up and then you all watch Murphy's ass while he hardwires them to the roadblock. I did a little recon...there's a lot of undead around the roadblock, too. And I'm sure the process of getting the bomb is going to create a hell of a racket, so it'll draw more in. Got it?"

"Yeah. We're ready when you are," Maya said.

"No point in waiting. Let's go now."

He heft his weapon, an assault rifle, and turned towards the warehouse. His three remaining soldiers followed him. Marcus led Maya, Karen and Dan off towards it. Marcus felt his pulse begin to pick up. They were close, so very close. They just had to push through this. He had his shotgun on him and his pistol in its holster on his belt.

He was ready for this.

He hoped.

They came to the warehouse and moved around to the side of it.

"All right," Eric said, moving up to a garage-style door. "I'm going to hit the open button. All the bastards, I imagine, are gonna pour out. I want you guys to get ready, just mow these fuckers down fast as they come out, got it?!" he snapped.

There were a string of affirmative replies.

Eric hit the button.

The garage door started opening up. It was a slow, menacing, grinding thing, that door. Because almost immediately it revealed a forest of legs. A chorus of undead groans began drifting out to them, overriding the sound of the door opening up. They wanted to open fire right then and there, he knew they did, because the urge was almost overwhelming within him, but they couldn't, not yet, not if they didn't want to waste a lot of bullets.

An age and an era passed, and finally, the door was high enough to start revealing faces. That did it. The line had been crossed. The switch thrown. All eight of them opened up, unleashing a torrent of crimson hot death, mowing down a dozen zombies in the first two seconds, then another dozen in the two seconds following those.

But it seemed as if the warehouse was packed with them.

All eight of them emptied their weapons of bullets and shells. A great many zombie corpses slumped to the ground, but there were that many more, pushing their way over their fallen brethren with zero regard for them. Marcus hastily shoved another ten shells into his shotgun and kept up his rate of fire, blasting the zombies as quickly as he could. This went for perhaps another half minute and they must have cleared close to fifty or sixty of the bastards but eventually they all spilled out of the warehouse and rushed them.

Then it was close quarters combat.

Marcus didn't even have time to reload his shotgun. He let it drop and instead pulled out his crowbar, smashing the head of the first zombie that came to him. Its skull caved in with a satisfying crack but there was no time for it as another two were right behind it. All around him, the others pulled out their melee weapons and began fighting for their lives. For a long moment, Marcus was entirely lost in the motion of the brawl.

There was nothing but zombies and his hands and the crowbar. His arms rose and fell over and over again. His muscles burned. He became covered in gore. The stench of coagulated blood and rotted skin override the pall of gunsmoke that had fallen over them. Time seemed to stretch, seconds and minutes rendered utterly meaningless as zombie after zombie after zombie fell before him. And each one always seemed to get a little bit closer to killing him, a little bit closer to grabbing hold of him and ripping his neck out.

When the break in the tide came, it wasn't simply because they had managed to kill the majority of the zombies.

It was because something else, something bigger, was forcing its way through the crowd. One Marcus had named, in his head at least, the juggernaut. It was huge, immense, easily nine feet tall and probably weighed closed to a thousand pounds. It was huge and fat and bloated, built almost like a damned elephant.

The first inclination that he had that something different was happening was when he heard one of the soldiers scream. He finished cracking the skull of the zombie directly in front of him and fell back a few paces to give himself some room. Pulling out his pistol in a hurry, he opened fire, capping five more of the bastards in the head in quick succession to give himself even more room. Then he looked to his left in horror.

The juggernaut had one Eric's soldiers in its grasp. It was pulling him apart at the waist. The man was screaming, a high, keening wail as his intestines came out, foamy and purple and red. Marcus saw this happening, saw the man's head suddenly snap back, a red hole in his forehead. It was Eric who had put the bullet through his suffering soldier's dome. Then he turned his rifle onto the creature, which tossed both halves away and made a sweeping motion with its arm, knocking over most of the survivors and several zombies.

Marcus stumbled back several paces. There were still close to a dozen zombies coming for them. He saw that Eric, Karen and the two survivors were going for the hulking juggernaut. Fine, he, Maya and Dan would keep the stragglers off of them. Marcus raised his pistol and emptied his magazine, managing to put down another six. Between Maya and Dan, they put down the rest. As he was reloading, he saw Eric dodge the juggernaut's grasp, slap a fresh magazine into his rifle, aim it into the thing's face and fire.

The juggernaut's skull disappeared in a vaporized plume of gore. It toppled over and hit the ground with a thunderous crash.

"Holy shit," Eric said after a long moment of making sure nothing else was sneaking up on them or coming for them. "That was insane..."

"Yeah," Marcus replied shakily.

For a moment, there was just the sound of reloading. Then Eric had everyone sound off. Everyone from Marcus' crew had made it with some cuts, scrapes and bruises. Out of the three soldiers that Eric had started the battle off with, only the demolitions expert, Murphy, remained. And neither him nor Eric were looking too good.

"Come on," Eric said, heading into the warehouse, "let's fucking get this over with."

* * *

The warehouse was mostly cleared out.

They had to put down a few stragglers, but that was the easy part. The hard part was sorting through the wrecked ruin the interior had become. It took close to an hour, but they managed to track down enough explosives and the proper equipment to make it blow. As soon as they had everything loaded up, Marcus sent the call out.

"How close are you to being done packing?" he asked.

" _We're done,"_ Lily replied. _"Just waiting on the call."_

"And at the Grange?"

" _We're good to go,"_ Becca replied.

"Excellent. Come up to Fairfield. Head towards the bridge out of town and be ready. There seems to be a lot of them up here," Marcus replied.

" _We're on our way,"_ Lily said.

" _Us too,"_ Becca said.

Eric was coughing worse than ever as he walked over to one of the black SUVs they'd been using. "All right people, let's hightail it up to the bridge and get this fucking show on the road."

Marcus and Maya took the other black SUV and began following Eric and Murphy out of the Army base.

"I can't believe we're finally leaving," Maya murmured as they drove.

"Yeah, I know. Feels like a freaking dream," Marcus replied.

As they continued driving, he couldn't shake his previous notion that the valley somehow knew they were going to escape and was trying to stop them. There were more and more zombies around in the streets. Up ahead, Eric was starting to run some down. They began picking up speed. In the distance, Marcus could see the bridge and the way out. The Army had cleared the bridge, at least. How kind of them.

There were a lot of zombies up ahead.

"Shit," Marcus muttered.

As they came within about twenty feet of the bridge, which was packed, Eric suddenly stopped. "What's he doing?" Maya asked.

Suddenly, the window rolled down and something that seemed to be lit, which Marcus initially took for a cigarette, flew out, off into a clutch of trees that buffeted that side of the bridge. Simultaneously, another one flew out of the other side, into a parking lot. A few seconds went by, then, suddenly, loud popping noises filled the air.

"What the hell is that?" Marcus whispered.

Maya laughed. "Blackjacks, fireworks, big packs of 'em," she said. "Pretty smart."

The zombies started moving away, drawn by the noise. They way was clear. The two black SUVs drove across the bridge. Eric parked his at a slanted angle to the left of the bridge and made hand motions for Marcus to the same on the right.

"Natural cover," he said as they drove by.

Marcus parked the vehicle, killed the engine and got out. He looked around. The area was pretty simple. Ahead there was the immense concrete gate, behind was the bridge, which ran over a dry riverbed that looked steep enough not to admit any zombies. To their left and right were expanses of forest, which _would_ , unfortunately, admit zombies.

There seemed to be some moving among the trees.

"All right, Murphy, get it set up. The sooner we get this thing going, the better. I preferably want this blown up before everyone else gets here," Eric said.

"On it," Murphy replied.

"Let's watch his ass," Eric said, approaching the others. "We've got company."

Marcus looked. Sure enough, there were zombies coming from both sides and across the bridge as well. Not good.

One last push. One final battle.

Marcus made himself focus. His shotgun had run out of ammo and he'd abandoned it back at the warehouse. All he had left was his pistol, but he had managed to salvage a lot of bullets for it. It was time to put them to use. Marcus and Maya took the bridge while Eric covered covered the right side and Karen and Dan took the left.

Everyone opened fire.

Marcus timed his shots as well as he could. He began putting down the zombies one after the other, crouching in the shadow of one of the SUVs while Maya stood behind him, behind the front of the vehicle, using it to steady her aim. Together, they put down ten zombies, then twenty, then a whopping thirty. Bullets flew, old blood spray, decayed heads were split. Around them, Marcus could hear the others at work.

There seemed to be more and more zombies, three to replace every one that fell.

"Any day now Murphy!" Eric called.

The gunfire was almost constant.

"Got it!" Murphy called. He rushed back to join them.

"Blow it!"

Murphy hit it. Nothing happened.

"What the fuck!?" he cried.

"Check it!" Eric yelled. "Keep firing!"

Marcus groaned, slapped a fresh magazine into his pistol and kept banging away. He and Maya kept up their rate of fire, getting headshots more often than not. Finally, Murphy came back and quickly explained the situation.

"We're fucked!" he snapped. "Detonator or the receiver is fried, there's no way to blow it from a safe distance."

"Can't we just shoot it?" Marcus asked.

Eric laughed. "What is this, an action movie? No, it needs an electrical charge passed through it. Means someone's gotta be up close and personal to blow it..."

All conversation lapsed and a moment passed as they continued putting down the ever-encroaching zombies.

"Shit, I'll do it," Eric muttered. "I'm dying anyway. I've got that fucking Black Fever or whatever. Got maybe another good day left, don't wanna go out lying in a puddle of my own sick, too gone with fever to remember my own fucking name..."

"Thank you, Eric," Marcus said.

"Yeah, well, you assholes had better build a solid gold fucking statue in my honor! Murphy, cover me," Eric replied.

Marcus didn't have a chance to glance back. More zombies than ever were coming. He continued putting them down as quickly as he could, but he was running out of ammo. He was just about to glance back anyway, to see if something had gone wrong, because he felt the bomb should have blown by now, when it did.

A great burst of heat and light knocked him forward and overloaded his hearing. Groaning in pain, he tried to get to his feet, but he was exhausted now, worn down from running on adrenaline for so long. He glanced up.

A zombie was coming for him.

He began to raise his pistol, fearing that this might very well be it, that he just didn't have the strength to go on.

The zombie's head disappeared in a spray of blood.

He heard several people shouting in triumph and managed to get to his knees. The convoy had arrived. There were a lot of zombies behind them.

"Come on, let's go!" Maya yelled, hauling him to his feet.

The blue SUV he'd picked up earlier was in the lead with Lily driving and Jacob riding shotgun. "Come on!" she urged. "Hurry!"

Marcus ran. He looked around, spying Karen, Dan and Murphy running as well. They all managed to get to the SUV and cram themselves inside. There was hardly enough room for them all but at the moment it didn't matter.

"Drive!" Maya called.

Marcus glanced out the back window. He saw a line of cars, people firing out of the windows, standing up through a few moon-roofs and firing.

They were going to make it.

The convoy left Trumbull valley.

"Now what?" Lily asked as they hit the road out of the valley, back into the rest of the world.

"I don't know," Marcus replied softly.


End file.
